


Colorblind

by Sphealrical



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Death, Depression, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Permanent Injury, Soulmates, Substance Abuse, colorbonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphealrical/pseuds/Sphealrical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All grubs naturally exit the breeding caves with grayscale eyesight.  Since Alternia’s social structure is based on blood color, one of the first things taught in schoolfeeding is how to tell castes apart by the characteristics of their signs, horns, and teeth, and it’s mandatory for every troll to own a copy of “Her Imperial Condescension’s Book of the Hemospectrum and its Castes” in case they ever forget.</p>
<p>(You've learned not to correct when they think you’re a lighter green blood. Sometimes, you can even trick yourself.)</p>
<p>Colorbonds, therefore, have become a symbol of troll serendipity. Basically, when two fated trolls touch, hormones on their skin set off chemical receptors in the eyes, allowing a certain section of the color-range to become visible based on the destined quadrant."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Colors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606910) by [Quesarasara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quesarasara/pseuds/Quesarasara). 



> Well, here goes my first attempt at Homestuck fanfiction. I hope you like it!

You can’t believe this dense bulgesucker. You can’t _believe_ the sheer audacity of this under-schoolfed, empty-panned nooklicker.

You’d logged onto your favorite movie review website to write something for your most recent discovery “In Which An Undead Unfeasibly Becomes Colorbonded To A Teal-Blood Who Is Already In An Alternate, Non-Existent Empire-Approved Matespritship Only To Somehow Recover From His Undead Status Through An Untrue Power Of The Quadrants And Then Frees The Rest Of The Undead Using The Same Power And Both The Trolls And The Undead Fight The Shadow Walkers With The New Bonds They’ve Formed, etc.” only to find that some “reviewer” beat you to it. You’d taken the time to respond to the intruder, correcting the easily avoidable mistakes in their review like the magnanimous troll you are. And then, not ten minutes later, he replied.

twinArmageddons posted: what the fuck are you even talking about, the giirl and the undead were perfectly black for each other there wa2 no fuckiing rea2on why they 2houldve colorbonded warm

You, of course, responded in turn.

carcinoGeneticist posted: DID YOU ACTUALLY WATCH THE MOVIE, OR ARE YOU JUST WRITING A REVIEW ON THE TITLE? SHE’S BEEN FORCED INTO A MATESPRITSHIP BY HER LUSUS AND HE’S -IN CASE YOU MISSED THAT LINE- AN UNDEAD WITH A SENTIENT MIND. THE FUCKING QUESTION WASN’T WHETHER OR NOT THEY’D FALL INTO PITY EACH OTHER. THE QUESTION WAS FUCKING WHEN. AND IT’S NOT LIKE SHE ALREADY HAD A REAL RED PARTNER. HER FAKESPRIT HAD BEEN WITH HER FOR SWEEPS. IF THEY WERE GOING TO COLORBOND, IT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED AGES AGO.

You don’t think you have to mention that the establishment of a colorbond is the most romantic scene of any romcom, but apparently asshat doesn’t know when to quit.

twinArmageddons posted: iif you knew ANYTHIING about the quadrant2, youd know the que2tiion wa2 actually when theyd raii2e intwo hate only two fiind that 2ome a22hole who wouldnt know good diirectiion iif iit led 2traiight up theiir a22 wa2 liike “nah let2 ju2t let theiir warm 2hade2 2et iin, that2 a good iidea”

twinArmageddons posted: why am ii even tryiing two tell you thii2 2hiit when one look at your reviiew hii2tory ha2 proved two me that 2peakiing 2ome 2emblance of 2en2e intwo you ii2 a lo2t cau2e, ii mean fuck “iin which a de2perate ru2tblood meet2 a pan-addled brown-blood  that 2hould have been culled for the good of the empiire due two her thiinkpan defiiciiency whiich make2 her forget even the mo2t iimportant recent event2 who, after the very fiir2t date, giive2 hiim color. the ru2t blood de2piite all rea2onable cour2e2 of action, contiinue2 attemptiing two court her wiith “fiir2t” flu2hed date2 2he can’t remember, etc.” wa2 not a four 2tar moviie, next tiime you try two correct 2omeone make 2ure you know what the fuck youre talkiing about fiir2t

You blink at the screen a few times, rage growing with every second that passes. Oh, hell, no.

You’ll admit, this guy doesn’t necessarily need to have the pan cells required to appreciate masterpieces like the mentioned Troll Adam Sandler movie, there’s a reason it only got four stars after all. But if this asshole thinks he can just call your opinion dis-fucking-qualified because of his own pan shortcomings...

You open his review history in another tab. It is ON now, motherfucker.

carcinoGeneticist posted: YOU’RE ONE TO TALK ABOUT NOT KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT GOOD CINEMA. THE ONLY GENRE ON YOUR ROSTER OF “MOVIES”  IS SHITTY, OBVIOUSLY GREEN-SCREENED SCI-FIS. WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS ENOUGH THAT A MOVIE MENTIONING COLORBONDING IN THE FIRST TITLE SENTENCE MIGHT HAVE A BIT MORE ROMANTIC SUBSTANCE THAN FUTURISTIC SHOOT-EM-UPS OR DOES THE CONCEPT FLY SO HIGH OVER YOUR HEAD YOU BROKE YOUR NECK TRYING TO WATCH THE PRETTY COLORS.

carcinoGeneticist posted: OH WAIT, WITH YOUR LEVEL OF ROMANTIC INEPTITUDE, YOUR VISION IS PROBABLY AS GRAY AS THE METAPHORICAL MIDDLE FINGERS I’VE BEEN SENDING YOUR GIBBERISH, AND BY EXTENSION YOU, THIS ENTIRE CONVERSATION.

twinArmageddons posted: woah 2iince when the fuck ii2 the 2tate of my color-range any concern of your2

Bingo.

All grubs naturally exit the breeding caves with grayscale eyesight.  Since Alternia’s social structure is based on blood color, one of the first things taught in schoolfeeding is how to tell castes apart by the characteristics of their signs, horns, and teeth, and it’s mandatory for every troll to own a copy of “Her Imperial Condescension’s Book of the Hemospectrum and its Castes” in case they ever forget.

(You've learned not to correct when they think you’re a lighter green blood. Sometimes, you can even trick yourself.)

Colorbonds, therefore, have become a symbol of troll serendipity. Basically, when two fated trolls touch, hormones on their skin set off chemical receptors in the eyes, allowing a certain section of the color-range to become visible based on the destined quadrant. Matesprits give each other warmer hues of color; Kismesisses get cooler tints, and the conciliatory quadrants give a larger palette of available colors, adding hints for those without concupiscent bonds.

And that’s just the physical change. Many colorbonded trolls liken the experience of realizing a color change as one of the most memorable experiences in their lives: physical proof of the strongest emotional connection two or three trolls can share.

At least, that’s what your romcoms tell you.

You should have known this fucker wouldn’t even have one bonded quadrant. Time to rub it in.

carcinoGeneticist posted: I BET YOU HAVEN’T EVEN BEEN ON A DATE BEFORE IN YOUR LIFE. DO YOU EVEN KNOW THE NAMES OF THE QUADRANTS YET? HAS YOUR LUSUS TAUGHT YOU THE WINGBEASTS AND THE BEES? CAUSE I’D RATHER SHOVE ALL YOUR SHITTY MOVIES INTO MY LOOKSTUBS AND AURICULAR SPONGE CLOTS UNTIL THEY BOTH BLEED FROM SHITTY GREEN-SCREEN “SPECIAL” EFFECTS AND FORCED, CLICHÉ DIALOGUE RESPECTIVELY BEFORE I HAVE TO BE THE POOR ASSHOLE WHO HAS TO EXPLAIN TO SOME WIGGLER THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE CONCILIATORY AND CONCUPISCENT QUADRANTS.

twinArmageddons posted: okay fiir2t of all fuck you and 2econd of all FUCK you, ii don’t have two explain two 2ome a22hole on the iinternet wiith anger-management ii22ue2 my romantic experiience ju2t two prove a point

twinArmageddons posted: you know, thii2 ii2 a LOT of romcom2 for 2omeone wiith a 2atii2fyiing love liife, overcompen2atiing are we?

You freeze. Every response on the tips of your fingers dying.

You try not to think about it. There’s nothing you can do with that situation anyway. It’s nothing he needs to know. Besides you can’t let grub fuckers who don’t know what the hell they’re talking about get to you.

But so what if you were overcompensating a little? You dare any asshole to blame you for that. Stupid mutant sight.

When you don’t formulate a response fast enough, the text continues.

twinArmageddons posted: yeah that2 what ii thought, fucking 2peechle22

twinArmageddons posted: ii fiigured you were one of tho2e hypocriite2 on the iinternet who talk2 a biigger game than they can back up. ii2 that what the cap2 are for?

carcinoGeneticist posted: SPEECHLESS? YOU WISH, FUCKASS. I WAS LAUGHING TOO HARD AT THE SHEER STUPIDITY OF YOUR ARGUMENT TO TYPE. SERIOUSLY, DID YOUR LUSUS DROP YOU ON YOUR HEAD WHEN YOU WERE A GRUB OR ARE YOU JUST THAT STUPID?

twinArmageddons posted: iif anyone here ii2 2tupiid, iit2 you for thiinkiing that thii2 moviie ii2 worth all thii2 iimmature hoofbea2t 2hiit

You’d actually forgotten you were on a movie review site.

You feel typing that out is a bad idea.

carcinoGeneticist posted: YOU’RE JUST BACKING OUT BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU LOST AND DON’T HAVE ANY DIGNITY TO LOSE WITH, YOU PAN-DAMAGED FUCKASS.

There’s a longer pause than usual, and since you’re in a good mood, you feel you deserve a little gloating.

carcinoGeneticist posted: YEAH, THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT, BULGESUCKER. CAN’T DEFEND WHAT ISN’T THERE RIGHT?

carcinoGeneticist posted: AND JUST IN CASE THAT FLEW OVER YOUR THINKPAN, I’M SAYING YOU HAVE NO DIGNITY AND THAT’S WHY YOU CAN’T DEFEND IT.

…

He’s not responding. Did he disconnect? Coward.

carcinoGeneticist posted: WHAT THE FUCK, ASSHOLE? CLUCKBEAST OUT OF THE ONLY REAL ARGUMENT YOU’VE PROBABLY EVER HAD IN YOUR LIFE? LET THAT BE A LESSON TO ALL YOU CURIOUS MOVIE-GOERS READING THIS REVIEW STRING. THIS MOVIE IS ACTUALLY A MASTERPIECE AND ANYONE WHO TALKS SHIT ABOUT IT IS ONLY DOING SO BECAUSE THEIR HEADS ARE TOO FAR UP THEIR ASSES TO BE ABLE TO DO ANYTHING ELSE.

A sickeningly upbeat pop-up comes up as soon as you hit enter. “You have had an influx of posts over the last hour! Your posting privileges have been suspended for; 1 DAY. Maybe watch some movies in the meantime! Here’s some recommendations!” It goes on to list propaganda films.

It takes you longer than you’d ever acknowledge to realize that he might have been spam banned too. After a quick count, you realize that’s exactly what happened. Whatever, you obviously won anyway.

You quickly log out of the banned account and switch to an alternate account you made for just this purpose (there are a lot of idiots on this site. You have a personal quota of reviews to reach, and your need to inform people of their stupidity isn’t going to get in the way of that). You open the page for the next movie you’re set to review -cute but the feelings jams felt forced and one scene introduced a budding blackrom subplot that was never fully explored, leaving the movie feeling unfinished- and begin typing at a button breaking pace.

A few lines into it, you get a message in your inbox. You haven’t posted anything yet, so it can’t be a reply, and the last time you responded to anyone on this account was over a perigee ago. Confused, you open the message.

twinArmageddons sent: 2urprii2e motherfucker, get a better fiirewall youre practiically advertii2iing your iip addre22

You blink. It’s not. There’s no way. You check the last movie just to be sure.

twinArmageddons posted: diid you really ju2t addre22 the general reader2hiip of a web2iite? ii cant tell whether two laugh at how 2tupiid that ii2 or criinge iin 2econdhand embarra22ment.

chemicalGenerator posted: OH LOOK WHO THE FUCK CAME CRAWLING BACK.

The ensuing argument burns through two more accounts.

You trade trollian handles on account 5,

(WHAT, DID THEY RUN OUT OF HANDLES THAT DIDN’T IMMEDIATELY REPULSE PEOPLE TO THE POINT OF NEVER WANTING TO CONTACT YOU AGAIN?)

(you tell me)

and continue the argument there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my amazing beta reader EAter!
> 
> Pictures included were made by myself. Including Sollux's modified emoticon. 
> 
> *posts at midnight due to super perfectionist editing*

The problem with getting up in the dusk isn’t getting out of the recuperacoon: You can just use your psionics to float down. It’s _wanting_ to get out that’s the problem.

Like right now. You fucking code-binged while making a promising new virus (again) and, after a friend of yours finally convinced you to leave it alone for a couple of hours, collapsed in your recuperacoon only to wake up with the worst migraine you’ve had all fucking perigee. It’s not helping that in your haste to not pass out on the floor, you forgot to turn the husktop monitor off, and the screen light (which you’ve set so it won’t time out) shined through the fucking viewports in your recuperacoon, making the slime around you glow like a Twelfth Perigee’s Eve behemoth leaving. This, combined with your corneas’ dual-tone luminescence, basically shined light directly into your damn eyes the whole time you were fucking sleeping.

Shit, Sollux. How many times this sweep have you done that? Didn't you learn from the last damn time-

Pain explodes from behind your eyes, and you wonder why the _fuck_ you're using panpower to criticize yourself right now when there will be plenty of time for that later. You steel yourself and crack your right eye open. As painful as the unholy aura surrounding you is, your psionic aim is considerably better when you can actually see.

Light and dark gray psionics carefully turn the monitor away from the viewports, and the throbbing in your head eases slightly in tandem with the lighting. Years of experience whispers to simply float in the sopor until the pain subsides. Those same years taught you to not think about it because that only makes it worse. But it’s not helping that you _know_ you’re trying to not think about it, causing your mind to obsess, forcing you to at least indirectly focus on it, and welp, there’s the fucking migraine you weren’t thinking about. Dammit.

After a few minutes of suppressing your cognitive processes, the pounding from your frontal lobe has subsided enough to lift yourself out of the slime -by your arms because there’s no way in hell you’re exacerbating the bolts of pain in your pan anymore than you already have- and pad your way to the ablution block to wash the sopor off and take your doses.

When you were four sweeps old, your migraines began to worsen to the point where even moving caused excruciating pain. You begged a friend of yours to find 2omethiing ANYTHIING to help, and she directed you some website titled “TRxeatment FoRx Psionics”. You had to go through a couple of “clearance-required” warnings and other minor nuisances, but eventually you found what you were looking for. However, another type of recipe caught your eye before you scrubbed away any trace of your presence: medicine for “the veRxy common and annoying affliction amongst those with electRxical mental capabilities: bipolaRx natuRxes”.

At first you were weary about trusting pills that changed the way your mind worked, but someone you know eventually “persuaded” you to send her aaaaaaaall the recipes. In return for the “favor”, you sent her your latest doomsday virus. The same deal works for getting refills. They’ve worked well so far. The last remnant of your old moods is an occasional coding binge.

Your migraine medicine helps with the voices, too, but Aradia assured you she was okay.

In your ablution block, you avoid eye-contact with your reflection in the medicine containment unit. It’s weird to look at the eyes your self-made RGB program says are 255/00/00/ and 0/64/255 and just see... gray. Like everything else. One of the side-effects listed was unintended triggering of color-range. You’re not sure whether it was disappointing or relieving to not have experienced any such reaction.

The meds start to kick in while you’re in the shower. By the time you’re dressed and a few bites of leftovers fuller, you think you might be well off enough to go check your computer.

apocalypseArisen [AA]  began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

AA: s0llux!

AA: guess what i f0und!

TA: what.

AA: y0ure supp0sed t0 guess

TA: ii ju2t took my med2 AA.

AA: 0h

AA: an ancient civilizati0n huskt0p!

AA: its kind 0f weirdly shaped in the image of a light gray alien in s0me kind of fancy cl0thing

AA: its actually light gray n0t just t0 me

AA: but it 0ught t0 be really helpful f0r messaging pe0ple during digs

TA: doe2 iit even work?

AA: im messaging y0u from it right n0w!

TA: that2 the weiirde2t thiing youve found two date.

TA: ye2 iim iincludiing the robot that look2 liike you.

AA: What ab0ut the

AA: 0_0

You’re already typing your response to the next predictable question when another “ping!” sounds and a new window pops up behind your chat. You hit the enter key-

TA: no iim not p2ychiic.

-before looking to see who it is.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

CG: ARE YOU ACTUALLY ONLINE OR ARE YOU ONCE AGAIN CONTEMPLATING WHAT A WORTHLESS SACK OF SHIT YOU ARE WITHOUT NOTICING ANYTHING HAPPENING IN FRONT OF YOUR FUCKING UNSEEING LOOKSTUBS?

You roll aforementioned eyes and ignore him, moving to your earlier conversation to see new rows of light gray (161/00/00) text from your two-second absence.

AA: are y0u

AA: y0ure n0t f00ling me!

AA: d0nt make me tell Terezi that y0u were lying ab0ut mind p0wers!

AA: ive pers0nally witnessed her brand 0f justice, and y0u d0n’t want t0 see the mean end 0f her cane

AA: ps thats b0th ends

AA: b0th ends are the mean end

TA: ii dont want two know why you know that.

TA: ii wiill never under2tand that game you play.

TA: and a2 much a2 iid love two accu2e you of purpo2efully claiimiing that there were two mean end2 becau2e youre talkiing two me, there2 an a22hole wa2tiing 2pace iin another wiindow.

AA: 0h is it that tr0ll y0u were talking ab0ut

AA: sh0uty reviewer guy

TA: yep.

AA: by all means!

AA: ill still be here when y0u get back

AA: I have n0thing better t0 d0 t0day

TA: thank2 AA.

TA: alriight there2 now a wall of text on my other tab, iill be riight back.

You don’t wait to see her response of “ill be waiting!” before you turn to Mr. Shouty Reviewer Guy.

CG: FUCKING HURRY UP ALREADY, DOUCHEBAG.

CG: YOU’RE ALWAYS AT YOUR HUSKTOP. IT’S PRACTICALLY AN IMPOSSIBILITY FOR YOU TO NOT BE IN REACH OF AT LEAST ONE ELECTRONIC DEVICE WITH MESSAGING CAPABILITIES. I BET IF THERE WAS ONE VERSION OF YOU WHO SOMEHOW WASN’T NEAR A HUSKTOP OR SOME OTHER KIND OF SIMILARLY FUNCTIONING MACHINE, THE ONLY WAY PARADOX SPACE COULD COMPENSATE WOULD BE BY TEARING ITSELF APART.

CG: SINCE THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM IS STILL IN WORKING ORDER, YOU’D BETTER GET ON SAID PIECE OF TECHNOLOGY AND FUCKING RESPOND.

TA: ii ju2t got here chiill the fuck out.

CG: FUCKING FINALLY.

TA: awfully cliingy there CG.

TA: a troll2 gotta have 2ome 2pace.

CG: FUCK YOU AND THE HOOFBEAST YOU RODE IN ON. YOU’RE EITHER AT YOUR HUSKTOP OR YOUR RECUPERACOON, AND YOU WOULDN’T BE AT YOUR RECUPERACOON RIGHT NOW.

CG: RECLUSES TEND TO FOLLOW PATTERNS WITH THIS SHIT.

CG: AND YOUR PATTERN IS SO PREDICTABLE IT MIGHT AS WELL BE SOLID BLACK.

TA: you dont know me, maybe ii liike two get away from my block for a whiile iit2 not liike iim chaiined two iit.

TA: ii can leave the radiiii of my communal hiive 2tem2 lawnriing any tiime ii want.

CG: FIRST OF ALL, YOU’RE FULL OF SHIT. SECOND OF ALL, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT WORD SUPPOSED TO BE?

CG: OH MY GOD, IS THAT RADII?

CG: DID YOU DO THAT ON PURPOSE SO YOU COULD TYPE THAT “I” THING?

CG: WHY DO YOU EVEN DO THAT. IT MAKES OTHER TROLLS WANT TO SCOOP OUT THEIR LOOKSTUBS AND FEED THEM TO THEIR LUSUS.

CG: A SMALL PRICE TO PAY TO NEVER SEE THE FUCKING MONSTROSITY THAT IS YOUR TYPING QUIRK EVER AGAIN.

TA: youre 2o overdramatic iim liiterally ju2t over here.

TA:  rolliing my ii2 

CG: CONGRATULATIONS, I HAVE JUST VOMITED BLOOD. I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY, ASSHOLE.

CG: YOU CAN’T EVEN ROLL THE LETTER I THAT’S CALLED A STUTTER AND YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GET THAT FIXED OR PEOPLE WILL THINK YOU’RE A MORON.

CG: OH NO, TOO FUCKING LATE.

A sudden succession of plings sound from Aradia’s tab.

AA: s0llux i just had the best idea!

AA: give me his handle i wanna meet him

AA: please

AA: ss00lllluuxx!!

AA: c0me 0n y0u kn0w y0u cant deny the d0uble letters!

TA: holy 2hiit, how fa2t can you type woman??

TA: calm the fuck down.

AA: ive been waiting between every message except the last tw0

AA: i swear!

TA: hang on let me a2k hiim.

You switch over to the other tab to see he’s already sent a page’s worth of text. You never realized how hard it is being this popular.

You ignore everything he’s said so far.

TA: a friiend of miine iin another tab wiith no 2en2e of 2elf pre2ervatiion ha2 a2ked de2piite my warniing2 two chat wiith you.

TA: normally ii wouldnt have two a2k thii2 but giiven the fact that you throw a fiit about every fuckiing thiing whether or not iit2 an actual problem ii fiigured iid get the 2hiitfe2t out of my way.

TA: are you goiing two freak out iif ii hand over your handle?

[carcinoGeneticist is typing]

...

You sigh after it becomes clear that he’s probably revising and rethinking his response over and over. Here we go.

TA: you dont have two 2ay ye2 iif you dont want me two.

TA: iit2 YOUR fuckiing handle.

TA: AA wiill under2tand.

CG: WHY WOULD I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH A COMPLETE STRANGER GIVING AWAY MY INFORMATION TO ALL OF THE LITTLE PALS HE MADE AT THE LATEST ANNUAL CIRCLEJERK MEETING?

Honestly, how does he do that? That was practically instantaneous. Snaps have nothing on the typing speed of one carcinoGeneticist apparently.

TA: weve been me22agiing back and forth for liike a week that2 not exactly 2tranger2 at thii2 poiint.

CG: HA. FUCKING HILARIOUS.

Oh.

Um, okay then.

That... hurts a little more than you’d have thought.

You’d be lying if you said you and he were “friends”, sure. But you thought you were at least past strangers into solid acquaintance territory.

TA: are you fuckiing 2eriiou2, you troll me every day and youre calliing u2 2tranger2.

TA: look at that, a lone tear ju2t ran down my face.

CG: ALRIGHT THEN, YOU OVERDRAMATIC GRUBFUCKER.

CG: WHAT’S MY NAME?

...

This is embarrassing.

How the hell could you think you were solid acquaintances without even asking for his name? Fuck, Captor, get it together.

Oh shit, you’re pausing. He’s gonna know something’s up.

TA: forgot your own name CG? that2 ju2t 2ad.

Suave. It is you.

CG: |:,’B

TA: what the fuck am ii lookiing at.

CG: IT’S A RAISED EYEBROW. BETTER WAVE GOODBYE, IT’S SICK OF YOUR SHIT AND HAS DECIDED TO GO BE WITH RATIONAL TROLLS.

TA: ii2,

TA: ii2 that 2uppo2ed two be your horn2?

CG: …

CG: DON’T DODGE THE QUESTION.

Fuck.

TA: fiine ii dont know your name.

CG: HA. I WIN.

TA: but you dont know miine eiither.

CG: EXACTLY.

There’s a pause from both ends.

TA: 2o?

CG: SO WHAT.

TA: what2 your name?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TA: what2 your name?

You can’t say that you haven’t been hoping that he’d ask for your name the way a decent troll would have ages ago. You’re not happy that he had to be guilted into doing it, but the small part of your brain that had wanted it doesn’t care about context. That small part makes it tempting to just let him share your handle with whoever he wants.

But that’s not the part that told you to change your sign to be gray and to order as much stuff online as possible to avoid public interactions, so you promptly shove it down to the pit of your stomach.

CG: WHAT DO YOU CARE?

TA: holy 2hiit could you 2top beiing 2uch a dramatiic wiiggler for one 2econd?

TA: iit2 ju2t your name.

TA: the fuck could ii po22iibly do wiith one fuckiing name?

CG: HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW WHAT GOES ON IN THE MINDS OF THE PAN DAMAGED?

TA: what wa2 that?

TA: nothiing???

TA: becau2e that2 the correct an2wer.

Your hands hover over the keys, swept up in indecision.

TA: iif youre goiing two be 2uch a grub about iit, ii can tell you miine fiir2t.

Oh hell, no. You’re not letting this asshat get all the credit for being the mature troll. He will NOT get the upper hand. He won’t win at this. No way.

CG: KARKAT VANTAS.

Haha, now you have the upper hand. A pat on the back to you.

Or, at least, you WOULD give yourself a well-deserved congratulations if you weren’t holding your breath over his reaction.

TA: why the fuck diidnt you tell me 2ooner, 2hiit you couldve been KK thii2 whole tiime.

You're not sure whether to define your sharp exhale as angry or relieved, so you settle with a comfortable irritated.

CG: OH SHIT, DID I FORGET TO INCORPORATE YOUR WEIRD AS FUCK NICKNAME FETISH INTO THE LIST OF THINGS I NEED TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT. I’M *SO* FUCKING SORRY. WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN.

TA: eheheh.

TA: iim ju2t 2ayiing iit2 much better now.

TA: 2ollux captor, iid 2ay niice two meet you iif iit wa2 true iin any way.

CG: WOW. GOOD JOB, CAPTOR. YOU’VE MANAGED TO MAKE A PERFECTLY REASONABLE INTRODUCTION INTO MELODRAMATIC BULLSHIT IN THE SPAN OF ONE RUN-ON SENTENCE. I’D CONGRATULATE YOU IF I WERE ACTUALLY FUCKING SURPRISED BY THIS NEWEST INSTALLMENT OF THE INFAMOUS INTERNET SERIES “SOLLUX CAPTOR IS THE BIGGEST DOUCHEBAG”. MILLIONS TUNE IN AT 6 TO LAUGH ALONG IN A MASS-AUDIENCE HUMILIATION ONLY TO PERMANENTLY DAMAGE THEIR THINKPANS UNDER THE WEIGHT OF THE SECOND-HAND SHAME THAT IS YOUR SOCIAL LIFE.

TA: the BIIGGE2T douchebag?

TA: wow KK ii diidnt know ii left 2uch a hiigh rankiing iimpre22iion on you.

TA: now iif you could rediirect the energy iit took two compo2e that re2pon2e away from the “be a defen2iive a22hole” part2 of your pan twoward2 the “an2wer the oriigiinal fuckiing que2tiion” biit2 thii2 conver2atiion could be a lot le22 paiinful.

TA: can ii giive your handle two AA now or are there more embarra22iing bull2hiit hoop2 we need two jump through before you make up your god damn miind?

You don’t think he’ll be as receptive to a change of subject as he was before. You type one letter so it looks like you’re writing to buy some time. You remember that tactic didn’t work on him before.

CG: WHAT’S HE LIKE?

TA: what, AA?

CG: NO. THE IMAGINARY FRIEND YOU’RE FORCED TO HANG OUT WITH SINCE EVERY TROLL WITH A CELL OF GRAY MATTER REFUSES TO BE ANYWHERE NEAR THE BLACK HOLE THAT IS YOUR THOUGHT PROCESS FOR FEAR THAT THEY WILL BECOME STUPIDER BY PROXY.

CG: YES, “AA”, FUCKASS. YOU GET A POINTY ASS GLAM BADGE FOR YOUR ASTOUNDING DEDUCTION SKILLS.

TA: well excu2e me heiire22, AA ii2 a giirl and ii wa2 a liittle confu2ed when you 2aiid he.

TA: iif iit2 gonna be two overwhelmiing that a giirl2 talkiing two you, ii can 2et up a group chat.

TA: dont worry, we can waiit for you two get your 2ecuriity cu2hiion.

CG: FUCK YOU I’M THE DEFINITION OF A SMOOTH MOTHERFUCKER. TROLLS FIGHT TO THE DEATH FOR THE CHANCE TO THROW THEMSELVES AT MY QUADRANTS

TA: 2ure KK keep telliing your2elf that.

You only just met this guy two weeks ago on a movie review site. You’re not even sure if Sollux Captor is his real name. You can't directly name the danger of letting him give away your handle, but that's what you thought about buying sopor slime online, and that's saved your ass more times than you can count.

A small part of you, from the pit of your torso cavity, is begging you to go for it. That the worst that could happen is that you meet someone you have to block.

A bigger part of you is ordering you to tell him no. To mock and berate him until he gives up the idea entirely. Until he platonically hates you so much that he never talks to you again.

That’s the part that’s kept you alive.

CG: SURE, WHY THE FUCK NOT. LET’S JUST INVITE EVERY ASSHOLE TO MY TROLLIAN HANDLE.

TA: eheheh ii thiink the only one who get2 two 2ay that ii2 AA.

You’re tired of listening to it all the time.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Your mind sing-songs Aradia’s happy message back to you before she goes offline. Her 161/00/00 text telling you she’d be right back as soon as she handled something with TV and AG.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to you, and you switch back to the other tab.

You’ve set up your RGB program to give you the red/green/blue configuration of something when you hover the tip of your mouse over it for a couple seconds. You’ve always been curious about color for as long as you’ve known about it’s existence, and you just realized that you were so caught up in thinking clever responses before KK that you forgot to check his text. You switch windows to the ended conversation.

Wait, 98/98/98?

After a quick search, you give a disappointed click of your tongue. There’s no way that can be right. No troll would type in gray. That would be way too fucking cruel. Also, probably illegal. Fuck, and this version had been working so well. You add “fix the RGB program” to your mental to-do list as you close the search page.

You don’t have time to fix the error before your stomach growls and your attention is diverted to more pressing issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to people who got the Paradox Space reference and/or the other extremely nerdy reference within this chapter.
> 
> More on Sollux's medication in later chapters. It's not a permanent facet of the story.
> 
> Also, headcanon time: Human children feel safer when a blanket's pulled over their head because they think a monster can't get them. Hence why there are security blankets. With wigglers, the biggest fear is that enemies will attack them while they're sleeping, but there's no reason to have a scrap of fabric in the recuperacoon slime, and it doesn't calm their fears anyway. In troll society, there are cushions filled with absorbing gel stuff. When submerged in sopor, the cushion expands and the troll can stop up the lid of their 'coon with the cushion. When they wake up, wigglers can squeeze the excess sopor out and clear it from the lip of the recuperacoon.
> 
> Security cushions are about as effective as security blankets, but it makes wigglers feel better.
> 
> Another headcanon is that highblood terminology is everywhere. Sollux gives so few shits about the terms he uses that he uses highblooded and lowblooded words. At his best, he'll remember which term is which and will rebel slightly by using lowblooded terminology exclusively. However, most of the time, he couldn't give less of a fuck.
> 
> Karkat prefers lowblooded words because they're longer and fuck the highbloods and their stupid ass words.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter with dialogue in it. one line of the stuff.

As it so happens, Sollux’s friend doesn’t contact you that night. Apparently one of her teammates needed her help, and she had to leave.

 

By the time you receive the first rust-red message, you’d honestly forgotten about the whole thing. It makes the beginning of the conversation pretty awkward to say the least.

 

Eventually, you get used to talking with her. She gushes about her most prided archeological finds; you mention some of the more memorable crap your lusus has dug up from your yardblock. Instead of offense at the unintentional comparison to an over energetic lusus, she animatedly asks questions about the objects, badgering you over details until you send shitty, low-grade pictures from your husktop camera. She doesn’t snipe back at your barbs like Sollux, but it’s a nice change from the subtle condescensions or aggressive defensiveness that you’re used to from some of your other friends.

 

Throughout the conversation, something starts to catch your eye. Everytime you throw an insult in Sollux’s direction, she sends an immediate counter argument of some form. The relationship expert in you begins to question whether there’s a heart-shaped motivation to the defenses. It doesn’t help her case that she gets dodgy when you press her on the matter, which

 

CG: WHAT THE FUCK. DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THAT YOU CAN JUST SAY SHIT LIKE THAT AND THEN *NOT* GET ASKED QUESTIONS ABOUT IT? I HATE TO BURST YOUR BUBBLE, BUT YOU DON’T GET TO BE THE ONLY PERSON IN THIS DISEASE THAT IS OUR SOCIAL GROUP WHO GETS A PRIVATE LIFE. THE VIRUSES THAT PASS THEMSELVES OFF AS TROLLS WILL FIND WAYS TO GET UNDER YOUR SKIN AND WILL EXPLOIT ANY AND ALL WEAKNESSES YOU HAVE TO DO SO. GET READY FOR THE WORST OF FEVER BLUSHING, COLD SWEATS, AND BREAKDOWNS BECAUSE THOSE HAPPEN TO BE THE MAIN SYMPTOMS.

AA: 0h n0

AA: is there a cure

CG: NOPE. AND IT’S TERMINAL.

 

So you resort to your next information-gathering tactic: change the conversation around the way only you can, subtly and with the casual smoothness that only the greatest actors can perfect.

 

CG: SO HOW DO YOU KNOW SOLLUX? DID HE ATTEMPT TO POST SLANDER FROM RIGHT UNDER YOUR WATCHFUL GAZE ABOUT A MASTERPIECE AND THEN INSULTED YOUR PEACEFUL ATTEMPTS TO CORRECT HIS PIECE OF SHIT PERCEPTION AS WELL, OR AM I JUST SPECIAL?

 

The subtlest. It’s you.

 

AA: y0ud be surprised how sharp s0lluxs percepti0n is karkat

AA: and its a silly st0ry actually!

AA: he was 0ut trying t0 find beehives in 0rder t0 be able t0 cultivate his lusus f00d at their bl0ck at the c0mmunal hivestem

AA: the area where he was l00king happened t0 be where i was planning a new dig

AA: i was planning 0n where t0 break gr0und when i heard a hive 0f mind wasps

AA: mind wasp stings are generally pretty nasty but theyre especially harmful t0 psi0nics

 

Wait, what?

 

AA: l0uckily 0ne 0f the things i can d0 is put things to sleep so i handled the wasps bef0re they c0uld cause t00 much damage

CG: YOU WHAT

AA: put the wasps t0 sleep

CG: YOU’RE A PSIONIC?

CG: WAIT.

CG: *ONE* OF THE THINGS?

CG: YOU CAN HAVE MORE THAN ONE THING?

AA: 0_0

AA: i w0uld have th0ught that s0llux w0uld brag ab0ut at least 0ne 0f the things he can d0

AA: he seems t0 like bragging t0 y0u

CG: WAIT, HE CAN DO SHIT LIKE THAT TOO?!

CG: HOLY SHIT, WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T HE TELL ME ABOUT THIS? THIS IS THE KIND OF THING NORMAL TROLLS SHARE WITH EACH OTHER.

CG: I’M GOING TO FUCKING TEAR OUT HIS BLOOD PUSHER AND SHOVE IT DOWN HIS LIE-BY-OMISSION, DRY CHUCKLING FEED TUBE UNTIL IT REACHES HIS FUCKING WASTE CHUTE FOR NOT TELLING ME.

AA: 0_0 thats a pretty seri0us threat karkat

AA: and als0 n0t the resp0nse i was expecting

AA: what d0 y0u mean by lie-by-0missi0n

CG: I SPECIFICALLY ASKED HIM, FROM THE GET-GO, WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT PEOPLE SHOULD PROBABLY KNOW ABOUT HIM. I THINK WHETHER OR NOT HE CAN DO MIND SHIT FALLS INTO THAT CATEGORY, AND HE LITERALLY DID NOT SAY ONE FUCKING THING ABOUT IT. THAT’S LYING BY OMISSION.

AA: i d0nt think thats a valid claim if the 0riginal questi0n was asked sarcastically

CG: MY POINT STILL STANDS.

 

There’s a slightly longer than usual time period before she responds.

 

AA: c0ngratulati0ns karkat y0ure the first pers0n wh0m s0llux intr0duced me t0 wh0 ive decided t0 keep in my chump r0ll

AA: i wish i didnt have t0 g0 but 0ne 0f my flarp friends just messaged me and it s0unds pretty imp0rtant

AA: talk t0 y0u s00n!

 

apocalypseArisen [AA]  ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

 

CG: WHAT.

 

As the rust blood text sits idle on the screen in front of you, you begin to wonder again what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into.

 

A mustard yellow handle brightens on the right side of the screen, and as you click it, you begin to think it might not be a bad thing.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[Sollux]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

You can’t figure out what the _FUCK_ is wrong with this _fucking code_.

You’re going to claw out your lookstubs if you have to look at this stupid fucking thing ever again.

64 times. 64 times, you thought you found what was wrong only to find that the answer continues to elude you. You’ve tried adding lines, you’ve tried changing lines, you’ve looked through the existing code more times than you can COUNT for errors or open scripts or an out of place 255/00/00 or 0/64/255 line. But you can’t, for the _life_ of you, _figure out what the fuck is wrong with this piece of shit._

You’ve seen the number of the beast, and it’s 98/98/98. Eat your heart out, Troll Iron Maiden.

Your head is killing you. You probably missed at least two doses in your stubborn concentration. You get up to go take your pills, hoping for a reprieve from this stupid thing.

When you realized the code wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought, you’d set your trollian status to offline to keep the assholes from bothering you. You were awake when 161/00/00 came online. You don’t feel too bad about ignoring it though, she’s probably more than happy to finally start trolling _the fucking RGB code MISTAKE_ , and he’s never offline. Now, when you get back to your desk from a much-needed painkiller, Aradia’s handle is offline.

As far as you know, his is never not online.

Aided by your newly full stomach and pain-free pan, an illuminating glass bulb goes off and you groan at your own stupidity. If you knew which color the code should read, you’d have a much easier time figuring out what the mistake is. You should just ask him.

You set your tag to online and immediately start trolling him.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: CONGRATULATIONS YOU SACK OF SHIT ALL OF THE TIME, ENERGY, AND EFFORT YOU’VE PUT IN HAS PAID OFF SINCE THE CONDESCE HERSELF OFFICIALLY NAMED YOU “THE BIGGEST MOST ABSOLUTE WORSE TROLL IN THE ENTIRETY OF PARADOX SPACE”. IF ANCESTORS WEREN'T HIGH-BLOOD HOOFBEAST SHIT, YOURS WOULD BE SO ASHAMED OF HIS DESCENDANT THAT UPON HEARING OF YOUR VARIOUS SHAMES, THE GUILT OF WHAT WOULD BECOME OF HIS BLOODLINE WOULD FORCE HIM TO OFFER HIMSELF TO THE CULLING DRONES, AND THEY PROBABLY WOULDN’T EVEN RECOGNIZE HIM AS A TROLL WITH HOW HORRIBLE HIS GENETICS MUST HAVE BEEN TO EVENTUALLY PRODUCE A SECRETIVE FUCKUP LIKE YOU. WHAT FUCKING CRAZY MIND SHIT CAN YOU DO?

TA: what color do you type wiith?

“Honestly, how the FUCK does he do that?” You mumble to yourself as you stare at the paragraph. You read through what he asked and feel yourself pale (by the way who the fuck names a symptom of major distress after moirallegiance: a quadrant about being vulnerable; that’s just _sick_ ).

You were going to tell him. Eventually. Just… it was nice to know someone who thought of you as just another troll and not some bifurcated mutant freak.

Who the fuck are you kidding. You hadn’t wanted him to know. You never would have told him, even though it killed you to think you were actively hiding it. At first it was fine because he was just some asshole, but fuck if his yelling doesn’t grow on you after a while.

Oh shit, he’s gonna fucking hate you for not telling him. If he hasn’t already been pushed past the breaking point by the fact that Aradia had to be the one to tell him.

You hate yourself a little for that too, yet another tributary feeding into a river of hate because as much as you didn’t want him to know, you _definitely_ didn’t want him to find out from someone else. God, you’re awful. She probably didn’t even realize you’d kept it a secret. She probably just let it slip, and when Karkat promptly _freaked the fuck out_ , it definitely hit her.

Oh great, Aradia probably feels awful right now. She probably feels like she betrayed your trust. Great, now you need to have _words_ with her.

You hate _words._

You tune back in from your spiel to find that Karkat evidently does not feel the same.

CG: WHAT THE FUCK WHERE DID THAT SHIT COME FROM WHAT DO YOU EVEN CARE

CG: EVEN IF IT WAS ANY OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS AND I TOLD YOU WHAT MY TEXT COLOR WAS WHAT GOOD WOULD IT DO FOR YOU WITH YOUR CEMENT VISION

Well that’s… unexpected, but you shrug it off as another weird KK-ism and continue.

TA: oh my god, calm your tiit2.

TA: ii have thii2 program 2et up two 2how me the rbg code of any color on my hu2ktop 2creen.

TA: but iit keep2 me22iing up for your text 2o iim tryiing two fiigure out what the problem ii2.

TA: ii thought iit miight help iif ii knew what the code 2hould 2ay.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[Karkat]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TA: what color do you type wiith?

Fuck.

The only parts of your body that don’t go numb are your lungs -which you can _feel_ constrict in panic- and your fingers. You have no idea what you’re typing, but there’s no way it isn’t incriminating in nature.

Okay, calm down, Karkat. It’s fine. He doesn’t know anything; he’s just asking. Try deflecting the conversation away from yourself.

CG: EVEN IF IT WAS ANY OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS AND I TOLD YOU WHAT MY TEXT COLOR WAS WHAT GOOD WOULD IT DO FOR YOU WITH YOUR CEMENT VISION

TA: oh my god, calm your tiit2.

TA: ii have thii2 program 2et up two 2how me the rbg code of any color on my hu2ktop 2creen.

TA: but iit keep2 me22iing up for your text 2o iim tryiing two fiigure out what the problem ii2.

TA: ii thought iit miight help iif ii knew what the code 2hould 2ay.

Oh fuck.

You can’t tell him. There’s no way you can tell him. You don’t want to believe it, but any troll who deliberately designs programs to look at text colors has to be a hemophobic asshole (which is actually surprising, he hadn’t given you any casteist signs, but this wouldn’t be the first person who surprised you with that shit). If you tell him, who knows what the fuck he might do. He could report you for illegally covering up blood color, he could force you to give him some bullshit reason why (which would suck since you’re a horrible liar under pressure), he might

holy shit write something or he’ll get suspicious if he isn’t already by now.

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S NOT WORKING

CG: WHAT IS IT DOING?

TA: iit keep2 2howiing up a2 98/98/98 whiich ii2 the rgb code for thii2 2emii-dark gray.

TA: iit2 exactly the 2ame a2 what ii 2ee ba2iically, but that's the problem.

Breath, Karkat. Okay. That’s slightly less good than it could be.

CG: OH MY GOD, IS THIS WHAT I THINK IT IS? IS THIS THE SOUND OF SOLLUX CAPTOR -SELF PROCLAIMED “ELITE PROGRAMMING MASTER”- NOT BEING ABLE TO FIX A CODE? I MEAN, I’VE ALWAYS SUSPECTED THAT YOU’D EVENTUALLY COME AND BEG ME TO SHARE SOME OF MY UNPARALLELED WISDOM, BUT I HAVE TO SAY THE DAY CAME A LOT FASTER THAN I WAS EXPECTING. I DON’T KNOW IF I BELIEVE IT.

Yes, antagonize him. That’ll fucking work.

You hit your forehead against the desk.

TA: are you fuckiing 2eriiou2?

CG: MAYBE IF YOU ASK NICELY I MIGHT FIND IT IN MY GRACIOUS BENEVOLENCE TO HELP YOU WITH YOUR PROBLEM.

There you go. Much better. Tell him you’ll help him if he ditches his dignity. Captor could never deal with that.

TA: you know what?

TA: fuck thii2.

Yes. Victory.

TA: ii can ju2t hack iintwo your trolliian account and look at your text settiing2.

Wait. What?

TA: ii wa2 only a2kiing becau2e iit2 le22 iintru2iive and god know2 you alway2 get on my ca2e about 2hiit liike that.

TA: but iif youre gonna be 2uch a drama empre22 about thii2 2hiit.

CG: WAIT. CAPTOR. DON’T.

twinArmageddons [TA] changed status to Busy

CG: CAPTOR I’M BEING SERIOUS. DON’T.

CG: SOLLUX! GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!

CG: SOLLUX CAPTOR DON’T YOU ******FUCKING DARE OR I’LL RIP OUT YOUR FUCKING WASTE CHUTE AND SHOVE IT SO FAR UP YOUR NOSTRILS YOU WON’T SMELL ANYTHING BUT YOUR OWN HOOFBEASTSHIT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE******

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[Sollux]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

98/98/98   98/98/98

You’re aware, of course, of your laptop’s incessant pinging as KK’s messages stack up. You’re also aware that the amount you stare at the code comparison can’t change how much sense it makes, but you seem to be trying your damned hardest.

You’re… not quite sure how you feel about this.

 

On the one hand, you really don’t mind if this guy wants to cover up his caste. The hemospectrum never seemed that important an idea to you, and you honestly never understood the hype most trolls give it.

On the other hand this is technically a serious crime. He could spend _sweeps_ in jail for shit like this depending on his reasoning and, of course, his actual blood color.

In both hands is the fact that he didn’t tell you in the first place, but that’s probably the left-over code irritation talking.

When you finally concede that yes, 98/98/98 _is_ actually the color he types with, you switch back over to KK’s tab.

He’s been sending you messages the whole time you were “busy”, apparently. The messages get more and more threatening in nature until one point where he must have become so outraged that he broke his aggression sponge because there’s a dramatic tone shift from “I’m going to kill you and everything you love” to desperate begging for you to say something.

You relate to the guy a little. Before your medicine, you used to have random self-deprecation attacks. Fuck, he’s really upset about this whole thing, isn’t he? Shit. Okay, what did Aradia do to get you to calm the fuck down whenever you started attacking yourself?

TA: you realiize iif youd ju2t told the truth there wouldnt have been thii2 much drama.

TA: iim not even mad KK, calm down.

TA: iif iim anythiing, iim miildly annoyed.

TA: ugh, ii gave my2elf the biigge2t miigraiine over that 2tupiid code.

CG: ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

That catches you off-guard. Of… course? Why wouldn’t you be?

You only blink for a second, but, apparently, it’s a second too long.

CG: I UNDERSTAND IF YOU SAY NO I MEAN WHAT KIND OF TROLL WOULD EVER WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH A SECRETIVE FUCK-UP LIKE ME.

CG: AND IT’S NOT LIKE I’M GOOD FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN YELLING AT PEOPLE FOR NO REASON.

[carcinoGeneticist is typing]

TA: calm the fuck down.

TA: ii mean FUCK ii know iim iintiimiidatiing but thii2 ii2 ju2t embarra22iing.

TA: 2ure, KK, we’re 2tiill friiend2

TA: iit2 not liike you were the only one keepiing 2ecret2 anyway.

…

Any second now.

CG: THAT’S RIGHT, LET’S TURN THE SPOTLIGHT AWAY FROM WHAT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS SO WE CAN START THE CAMERA ROLLING ON THE POPULAR, PLANET-WIDE GAME SHOW “THE FUCKING MIND SHIT YOU CAN DO, AND WHY THE FUCK YOU WANTED TO HIDE IT.” UNLESS, OF COURSE, ONE OF THE THINGS YOU CAN DO IS BECOME A LIVING LAMP, IN WHICH CASE LET’S CULL TWO WINGBEASTS WITH ONE STONE AND SHED SOME FUCKING LIGHT ON THE SUBJECT.

And people call you moody. Eheheh.

Your conversation evolves from awkward whatever-the-fuck-that-was into the mutual, almost-friendly insults you’ve come to expect from KK.

Neither of you are sleepers, it seems, and it's only when Aradia comes online that you realize you’ve been awake for 24 hours for the first time since you started taking your medicine.

You don’t tell him about your medicine or your mood swings. It’s only fair you get to keep a few things hidden too.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[Karkat]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When he signs off, you’re tired but not moreso than you usually are. You stretch until you feel a few bones in your back pop.

You scroll earlier in your conversation to where Sollux said he could just hack your trollian and look to see your font color. To be honest, you hadn’t realized that that was a thing that could happen, but looking back, it seems obvious. If you could yell at yourself when you first made the trollian account for thinking your anonymous identity was well hidden, you would. Fuck that’s embarrassing.

There’s really only one way to make sure your secret is safe for at least a little while longer.

You go on Alternazon and purchase “~ATH - A Handbook for the Imminently Deceased”. The first task you’re determined to learn is how to make it so you aren’t, in the words of someone you won’t name right now, practically advertising your I.P.

When that’s done, you go to your recuperacoon for the night.

Sopor slime usually chases most of your dreams away, but sometimes daymares still break through the hazy bliss. In this one, you’re fighting for the fuschia you’re red for against her deep violet ex-pale. You’re unexpectedly hit with a burning white shot of pain which turns your vision black. Mustard-yellow streaming freely down your face from your eyes as the force launches you backwards. In your mind, you almost feel red/blue tendrils leaving in tandem with your color. You wake up right before you hit the wall; the only thought running through your head how utterly useless you fucking are and how much more you will be now that the colors have faded to black.

You don’t truly wake, not completely. Your waking self is very aware that there are many points throughout the night where you’re only semi-conscious, half in the dream and half awake. These reality confusing periods always happen during the moment your other perspective’s self dies or gets KO’d. You’ve never gotten a full night’s sleep. You never remember these dreams when you wake up. You don’t really want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *seriously editing at last minute to post on same day as update*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to everyone who thought I was giving this story up! D: I promise that'll never be it. I'm just awful at finding time/motivation/energy for writing. Especially with school starting back up soon.

TA: ii dont beliieve you.

CG: YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME.

TA: amaziing, iit under2tand2 language.

TA: no ii dont beliieve you.

TA: iif thii2 guy wanted two wear 2carve2, ii could MAYBE under2tand.

TA: but cape2 are liiterally the 2tupiide2t piiece of clothiing, iit2 a triiangle of cloth wiith no functiional u2e what2oever

TA: no troll would ever wiilliingly choo2e two wear a 2crap of cloth hangiing off theiir fuckiing back.

TA: of all the clothiing po22iibiiliitiie2 out there, ii cant fathom the iidea that any 2cum 2ucker lack2 the common fuckiing 2en2e needed two under2tand that cape2 are iinherently the wor2t.

CG: NEVER SAY POSSIBILITES AGAIN THAT PHYSICALLY HURTS MY LOOKSTUBS.

CG: AND HOW DARE YOU QUESTION MY CAPACITY TO SOMEHOW ATTRACT ALL DIFFERENT BREEDS OF THE WORST KINDS OF TROLLS.

TA: youre fuckiing bluffiing and you know iit.

CG: HIS HANDLE IS CALIGULOUSAQUARIUM, AND HIS NAME IS ERIDAN.

CG: GO AHEAD. PROVE ME WRONG, NOT SHOT.

TA: oh fuck ye2, iim calliing you out KK.

TA: hope your 2tandiing nub ta2te2 good cau2e youre about two eat iit.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] changed status to Busy --

…

\--twinArmageddons [TA] changed status to Active --

CG: WELL?

CG: HOW DOES IT TASTE?

TA: liike a 2eadweller2 tear2.

TA: iim gonna go 2iit iin my recuperacoon and try two forget the la2t few miinute2 of my liife.

CG: I FUCKING TOLD YOU, AND YOU DIDN’T BELIEVE ME.

TA: iit contiinue2 two a2tound the world wiith iit2 abiiliity two maniipulate word2.

CG: DID HE TALK TO YOU ABOUT HIS DOOMSDAY DEVICES.

TA: youre not helpiing.

CG: WHAT ABOUT THE WAR HEROES HE THINKS HE'S THE MOST LIKE.

twinArmageddons [TA]  ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: HAHAHA, THAT’S WHAT YOU GET, ASSHOLE.

 

~~~~[Karkat]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

AA: a fashi0n expert?

CG: I KNOW. IT’S WEIRD. BUT IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR CLOTHES THAT YOU CAN WORK IN, SHE’S THE PERSON TO GO TO.

CG: I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS WITH THE TROLLS I KNOW AND THE WEIRDEST FUCKING PASSIONS POSSIBLE, BUT APPARENTLY I’M DOOMED WITH INCOMPETENT FAILURES WHO ONLY WORK WELL WITH EACH OTHER.

AA: 0_0

CG: DID YOU HEAR THAT? IT’S THE SOUND OF MY SANITY DEFLATING.

CG: SHE ONLY WORKS IN THE DAYTIME.

AA: thats fine!

AA: im used t0 pe0ple with weird sleep schedules!

CG: OF COURSE YOU ARE.

CG: GRIMAUXILIATRIX.

AA: thank you karkat!

CG: NEVER LET IT BE SAID THAT I’M NOT A FUCKING CROWD PLEASER.

apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: THIS IS GOING TO BE A RECURRING THING, ISN’T IT?

~~~~[Aradia]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

AA: n0 way!

GA: I Didn’t Know That Vriska Was Hiding My Identity.

AA: i didnt kn0w she had any 0ther friends t0 be h0nest

AA: im 0n the 0ther team

GA: Ah. That Makes Sense. She Does Have Quite The Competitive Streak.

GA: What’s More Surprising To Me Is That She Hid My Identity From The Patient.

GA: I Was Aware, Of Course, Of Her Manipulative Nature, But This Is Just Outright Dangerous.

AA: well he d0esnt need the pills per say

AA: they just make his life easier

GA: Still, If You Could Give Me His Handle So That I Might Contact Him Directly, That Would Be Wonderful.

AA: 0f c0urse!

AA: his handle is twinArmageddons

AA: let me warn him th0ugh

AA: hes n0t the m0st s0cial pers0n and i d0nt think the best way f0r any0ne t0 meet him is with the element 0f surprise

GA: Of Course. I’ll Be Here.

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] changed status to Away --

~~~~[Eridan]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

CA: cmon Fef

CA: the least you could do is believve me

CA: this guy didnt evven try bein civvilized

CA: he just started the chat wwith somefin about howw he had a bet wwith kar an did i really wwear capes

CA: an then he started laughin at me

CC: It’s not t)(at I don’t bereef your story!

CC: I s)(rimply can’t t)(ink of anemone who would do somet)(ing like t)(at.

CC: Are you S)(OR-E )(e was trying to be mean?

CA: seriously

CA: The guy messaged me just ta bassk me somefin

CA: an then made fun a me for it

CA: im PRETTY shore

CC: But Karcrab driftwoodn’t send anemone like t)(at!

CA: are wwe talkin about the same Kar

CC: UGH!!!!! FIN-E!

CC: Send me t)(is beach’s handle! I’ll seal with them!

CA: aww you really dont have ta do that Fef

CA: i mostly just wwanted ta vvent

CC: --ERIDAN! S-END M-E TH-E GLUBBING HANDL-E!

CA: holy shit Fef shoosh!

CA: im fine he wwas just bein a bulge

CA: but if ya reel-y wwant ta tell the asshole off its twinArmageddons

CC: -Eelright! I’ll go give him a piers of my mind!

CC: Be right back!

CA: before ya go Fef

CA: thanks

CC: Glub! <> 38)

CA: <>

\-- cuttlefishCuller [CC] changed status to Away --

 

~~~~[Karkat]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

gallowsCalibrator [GC]  began trolling  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: OH MY FUCKING GOD. I SWEAR IF I HAVE TO DEAL WITH *ONE MORE* ASSHOLE WHO *MAGICALLY* GOT MY FUCKING HANDLE, I AM GOING TO FUCKING JUMP OFF OF MINE.

CG: WHAT, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, COULD YOU *POSSIBLY* WANT AND/OR NEED THAT IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE VERY CRUCIAL THING I’M DOING RIGHT NOW?

GC: STR41GHT TO TH3 INT3RROG4T1ON TH3N? P3RF3CT!

GC: 4 GOOD L3G1SL4C3R4TOR 1S 4S 3FF1C13NT W1TH 1NTRODUCT1ONS 4S TH3Y 4R3 1NV3ST1GAT1ONS

GC: TH3 F4CT TH4T TH3S3 OFT3N OCCUR S1MULT4N3OUSLY 1S 1NCONS3QU3NT14L

CG: OH FUCK NOT ANOTHER ROLEPLAYER.

CG: WHAT ARE YOU, THEN? AN ANCIENTBEAST WHO RUNS A COURTROOM? THAT’S PRETTY LAME, EVEN FOR THE LOW-LIFE SCUM OF THE INTERNET THAT IS TEXT ROLEPLAYERS. FUCK, EVEN FLARPING HAS SOME ACTUAL REAL-LIFE SHIT TO TEACH, LIKE SURVIVAL SKILLS AND HOW TO GET ALL THE ASSHOLE OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM BEFORE YOU INSULT THE WRONG PERSON.

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK THIS, I’M NOT DEALING WITH THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] changed status to Busy --

GC: YOUR3 NOT BUSY. YOU W3R3 JUST H3R3! >:[

GC: 4ND 1 4M NOT ROL3PL4Y1NG! 1 4M 1N TR41N1NG TO B3 4 L3G1SL4C3R4TOR

GC: 1 R3FUS3 TO L34V3 UND3R TH3S3 COND1T1ONS!

CG: WHAT THE FUCK CAN’T YOU SEE THAT I’M BUSY?

GC: 1T DO3SNT T4K3 TH3 SH4RP S3NS3S OF 4 L3G1SL4C3R4TOR TO S33 TH4T YOU 4R3 GU1LTY OF D3C31T!

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] changed status to Away --

GC: >:O

...

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

TA: at lea2t giive her a chance before you wriite her off, KK.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

TA: good talk.

...

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] changed status to Active --

CG: I’M GIVING YOU ONE CONVERSATION TO PROVE THAT YOU’RE WORTH NOT ENDING UP ON MY BLOCKED LIST.

GC: 4 WHOL3 CONV3RS4T1ON? YOU UND3R3ST1M4T3 M3

 

~~~~[Karkat]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TA: iim gonna fuckiing kiill you.

CG: YOU SAID YOU WANTED SOMEONE WHO COULD HELP YOU WITH YOUR STUPID PROJECT. EQUIUS, DESPITE BEING THE BANE OF MULTIPLE -ARGUABLY EVERY- TROLLS’ EXISTENCE, IS THE BEST HARDWARE GUY I KNOW.

TA: the fiir2t thiing he diid, before he even a2ked for my name, wa2  demand two know my blood color.

TA: iif thii2 ii2 2uppo2ed two be payback for giiviing AG your handle, thii2 ii2 way wor2e.

CG: NO. FUCK YOU. EQUIUS ISN’T HALF AS BAD AS THAT BITCH YOU SICKED ON ME. THE FIRST THING *SHE* DID WAS TRESPASS INTO MY FUCKING SPONGE TO GET TO MY BLOOD COLOR. SHE FAILED, BY THE WAY, SO DON’T WASTE YOUR TIME ASKING HER ANYTHING. AT LEAST EQUIUS ASKED.

TA: the fiir2t thiing he diid after heariing my blood color wa2 tell me that he had “more iimportant thiing2 two do than commune wiith a member of the lowblooded fiilth”.

TA: and giive me 2ome crediit, KK, ii know iif 2he had your blood color 2hed be paradiing iit around liike a leaked 2hiip de2iign.

CG: AT LEAST EQUIUS DOESN’T INVADE YOUR FUCKING THOUGHTS FOR FUCKING BLACKMAIL.

CG: BESIDES, HE WAS PROBABLY SWEATING PROFUSELY BY THE TIME YOU TOLD HIM ABOUT YOUR LITTLE PROJECT.

TA: androiid2 are not a liittle project.

TA: but he diid liike the iidea.

CG: THERE, YOU SEE?

TA: he al2o liiked the iidea of me orderiing hiim two buiild the androiid.

TA: he liiked that iidea a liittle TWO much.

CG: VRISKA WAS THE FUCKING WORST AND AS SOON AS YOU GET THAT THROUGH THE JOKE YOU CALL A THINKPAN WE’LL FINALLY BE ABLE TO MOVE ON WITH OUR LIVES.

TA: whatever, KK.

TA: iim talkiing two hiim iin another tab, weve 2tiill got a bunch of detaiil2 two cover for the fiir2t prototype.

CG: WAIT, BEFORE YOU GO, HAS HE GOTTEN A TOWEL YET?

TA: what?

TA: ii dont thiink 2o.

TA: why?

CG: IF YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO KEEP TALKING TO HIM, REMIND HIM TO GET A TOWEL. HE’S BROKEN MORE HUSKTOPS THROUGH SUBMERSION THAN ANY TROLL I’VE EVER KNOWN.

TA: iim fuckiing gaggiing.

TA: ii hate you 2o much riight now.

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

...

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TA: how doe2 thii2 fucker already have a palebond.

TA: how the fuck diid thii2 a22hat not driive hii2 palebond up a wall.

CG: THAT’S AN AMAZING FUCKING QUESTION.

TA: waiit.

TA: no fuckiing way.

CG: WHAT.

TA: holy 2hiit ii thiink ii know who thii2 ii2.

TA: oh my god ii2 THII2 the a22hole NP palebonded wiith?

CG: HE ACTUALLY TOLD YOU WHO HIS MOIRAIL IS?

TA: well, no, but ii recogniize hiim from the de2criiptiion NP gave.

CG: NP?

TA: iill giive you a hiint, thii2 new2 ii2 "paw2iitiively" 2hocking.

CG: ROLEPLAYER GIRL?!

CG: HE'S MOIRAILS WITH ROLEPLAYER GIRL??!!

CG: OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO GIVE HIM *SO MUCH SHIT* OVER THIS.

TA: iill get NP.

CG: THIS IS WHY WE'RE FRIENDS.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

 

~~~~[Aradia]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

AA: im telling y0u tavr0s

AA: i know its weird

AA: but reading him rant 0n and 0n ab0ut the m0st mundane 0f things

AA: he said it best! he’s “a fucking cr0wd pleaser”

AA: almost every0ne else feels the same way

AT: i dON’T KNOW, aRADIA,

AT: i’M SURE THIS OTHER GUY IS A GOOD TROLL, bUT, uM, i DON’T REALLY KNOW HOW HE’LL REACT, gAMZEE, tHAT IS, wITH TROLLS JUST SHOUTING AT HIM,

AA: are we talking ab0ut the same tr0ll?

AA: gamzee is pretty g00d ab0ut n0t getting upset 0ver stuff like that

AT: bUT NO ONE’S EVER MEANT IT, i’M PRETTY SURE, wHEN THEY YELL AT HIM,

AT: pLUS HE’S, uH, gOING THROUGH A HARD TIME RIGHT NOW,

AT: wHAT WITH, hIS LUSUS BEING GONE FOR SO LONG,

AT: aGAIN,

AT: aND i DON’T REALLY THINK NOW’S A GOOD TIME TO BE, uH, gUESSING ABOUT THIS KIND OF STUFF,

AT: i DON’T WANT TO, uPSET HIM RIGHT NOW,

AA: 0h

AA: 0h!

AA: i get it!

AT: wHAT,,

AA: tavr0s! were supp0sed t0 be teammates! y0ure supp0sed t0 tell me stuff like this!

AT: uH, i’M SORRY, i STILL DON’T REALLY KNOW, wHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT,

AA: d0nt w0rry i get it

AA: ive g0t a flush crush 0f my 0wn as y0u kn0w and it can be hard t0 admit things like that!

AT: wAIT,, wHAT,

AT: nO, iT’S, uH, tHAT IS WE’RE, uH, wE’RE NOT LIKE THAT.

AA: sure y0ure n0t!

AA: if i c0uld this is where i w0uld put a winking face

AA: maybe... 0_-

AA: n0 that l00ks stupid

AA: i wish i had m0re than 0ne face

AT: nO, uM,

AT: nO WINKING IS NEEDED THOUGH, bECAUSE THERE’S NOTHING TO, uH, wINK AT,

AA: alright fine

AA: but if y0u ever change y0ur mind the yelling guy’s handle is carcinoGeneticist

AT: tHANKS, bUT, nO OFFENSE, i DON’T SEE ME, uM, cHANGING MY MIND ABOUT THIS, aNYTIME SOON,

AT: bUT ANYWAY, aBOUT THE SESSION,

AA: 0h right!

 

~~~~[Tavros]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

adiosToreador [AT] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: OKAY, YOU BETTER HAVE SOMETHING REALLY FUCKING IMPORTANT TO SAY, FUCKASS. I’VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH THE RANDOM ASSHOLES JUMPING ON MY BULGE LIKE DESPERATE PAILSLUTS FOR FUCKALL REASON WHEN I HAVE IMPORTANT FUCKING BUSINESS TO DO. I’M GIVING YOU ONE CHANCE, FUCKER, TO DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE THIS ENTIRE WASTE OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS INTO SOMETHING WORTH PARTICIPATING IN. IF YOU DON’T, SHIT IS GOING TO GO HIVE-LEVELS -IN CASE IF YOU’RE ANOTHER PANDEAD FUCKER I’LL SPELL OUT THAT I MEAN “SHITHIVE”- OF INSANE.

CG: SO GO AHEAD, PUNK. MAKE MY DAY. YOU’VE GOT ONE CHANCE.

adiosToreador [AT] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: SMART MOVE.

...

adiosToreador [AT] began trolling apocalypseArisen [AA]

AT: i AM NEVER INTRODUCING HIM,

AT: uH, cARCINOgENETICIST, tHAT IS,

AT: tO gAMZEE.

AT: aND THAT IS REALLY ALL THERE IS TO, uH, sAY ON THE MATTER.

AA: 0u-

AA: crap that l00ks even w0rse

 

~~~~[Sollux]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TA: that wa2 aradiia2 flarpiing partner.

CG: WHAT?

CG: YOU MEAN THE GUY THAT PLAYS GAMES WHERE HE KILLS TROLLS FOR FUN?

TA: um.

TA: yeah, 2ure.

CG: WELL WHATEVER. HOPE HE DOESN’T HOLD GRUDGES.

TA: ...

TA: youd be 2urprii2ed.

CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN.

TA: nothiing.

TA: ju2t iif ii were you iid 2tart gettiing your wiill ready.

CG: FUCK YOU YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO FREAK ME OUT.

TA: beliieve whatever you want bro, iit2 your funeral.

CG: YOU’RE FUCKING WITH ME.

CG: I’M PRETTY SURE I CAN HANDLE SOME ASSHOLE WHO WEARS FRILLY OUTFITS TO PRETEND TO BE THE STRONGEST FAIRY WARRIOR IN THE PANSY-ASS KINGDOM.

CG: OH NO, HE BROUGHT A GLITTER CANNON! WHATEVER SHALL I DO!

TA: actually ii thiink he fiight2 wiith a lance.

TA: he2 iin traiiniing two become a member of the cavalreaper2.

CG: BULLSHIT.

CG: YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO SCARE ME.

CG: RIGHT?

CG: HEY, ASSHOLE, I’M TALKING TO YOU.

CG: RIGHT?

...

AA: y0u t0ld karkat that

AA: s0llux y0ure w0nderful but y0u are a h0rrible pers0n

TA: hell fiigure iit out eventually, be2iide2 he de2erve2 iit for makiing me work wiith that hemophobiic a22hole.

AA: first 0f all y0u d0nt have t0 w0rk with any0ne y0u d0nt want t0

AA: ive t0ld y0u that

AA: sec0nd 0f all wh0

TA: EQ

AA: at the risk 0f s0unding like a h00twingbeast

AA: wh0

TA: you havent met NP2 moiiraiil yet?

AA: n0!

AA: 0_0

TA: eheheh, now you LOOK liike a hootwiingbea2t.

TA: and oh no, thii2 ab2olutely cannot 2tand, you HAVE to meet thii2 a22hat, he ii2 unbeliievable.

TA: centaur2Te2tiicle.

AA: thats his name?

TA: iit get2 better, and by better ii mean 2o much wor2e.

 

~~~~[Nepeta]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

CA: :33 > i purromise he’s not all bad once you get to know him.

CA: :33 > he just wants what he feels is best fur me.

CA: :33 > he was taught by his lusus to be very respurrctfur of the hemospectrum beclaws his blood caste is assigned a job that requires for them to be conscious of things like that.

CA: :33 > nothing i say about it gets through to him, so i’m hoping all these ofur furiends will help him get pawst it.

CC: I’m shore-y but can I just say one remora time that OH MY COD I LOV---E YOUR CATFISH QUIRK AND ALL TH-E PUNS!

CA: :DD > only if i can say that your puns look pawsitively delicious >:33

CC: 38O (hee hee!)

 

~~~~[Sollux]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

TA: iit2 ju2t crazy.

TA: iit wa2 liike we were all ciircliing around each other 2o long and never knew iit.

TA: and then out of nowhere 2ome force fiinally knocked u2 out of our orbiit2 and iintwo each other.

TA: ii mean iit2 only been four handle2 but then ii get me22age2 from other people liike “do you know thii2 per2on” and “oh my god have you met thii2 guy he’2 hiilariiou2”.

AA: i kn0w what y0u mean

AA: its weird

AA: but in a nice way

TA: yeah.

AA: speaking 0f weird

AA: i f0und this strangely large skelet0n in the ruins a c0uple days ag0 and i was w0ndering if y0u c0uld maybe help me with the rem0val pr0cess

TA: liike when you fiir2t found the ruiin2?

AA: well n0 n0t quite like that

AA: because when i asked y0u t0 help me with the ruins last time i was asking y0u as a friend

AA: i was thinking that y0u might want t0 help me as s0mething a little m0re...

AA: flushed?

AA: we d0nt have t0 0nly dig up skelet0ns 0f c0urse

AA: i c0uld pack s0me stuff and we c0uld have a picnic

[apocalypseArisen is typing]

 

TA: 2ure, that 2ound2 liike a lot of fun.

AA: awes0me!

AA: s0 its a date?

TA: yep.

...

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TA: KK 2hut the fuck up for ju2t one miinute. 

TA: AA fiinally a2ked me out.

CG: CONGRATULATIONS ON STOPPING THE INSANE TIP-TOEING AROUND THE PAINFULLY OBVIOUS FLUSH CRUSH YOU’VE BEEN HARBORING SINCE WE MET AND ACTUALLY GETTING THE GLOBES TO AGREE TO SOMETHING YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE INITIATED A *LONG* TIME AGO.

TA: what diid ii liiterally JU2T 2ay.

TA: anyway, 2he a2ked me out but iit2 goiing two be both of our fiir2t flu2hed date2.

TA: 2o iim about two 2ay 2omethiing that ii am never goiing two 2ay two you ever agaiin, 2o 2avor iit whiile iit la2t2.

TA: ii wa2 thiinkiing about the date and what two do when ii remembered how we met and you 2tarted talkiing about the quadrant2 and, well,

TA: KK, how do you redrom?

CG: I THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER ASK.

CG: GET COMFORTABLE, NOOK FONDLER. THIS IS GONNA TAKE A WHILE.

...

TA: never a2k kk anythiing about the quadrant2 ever

AA: s0llux i c0uld have t0ld y0u that

AA: if y0u wanted his 0pini0n why didnt y0u just look at his m0vie reviews, im sure he gets in a l0t 0f arguments 0n that site where he g0es int0 explicit detail

TA: …

TA: god dammiit.

AA: y0ure cute

AA: id l0ve t0 stay and chat but tavr0s just messaged me and i have t0 g0

TA: agaiin?

TA: AG need2 two chiill the fuck out iit2 ju2t a game.

AA: yes but she needs t0 take it m0re seri0usly than the rest 0f us s0 she can feed her lusus

AA: i just wish shed st0p picking 0n tavr0s

AA: i really have t0 g0

AA: bye!

AA: <3

TA: 2ee ya <3

apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

 

~~~~[Karkat}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

AC: ://

...

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling  twinArmageddons [TA]

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] is busy --

CG: OKAY SOMEONE TELL ME THAT I AM NO LONGER GOING TO HAVE RANDOM STRANGERS KNOCKING ON MY TROLLIAN DOORSTEP AND BOTHERING ME AT FUCK-EVERYTHING O’CLOCK BECAUSE THEY STUMBLED ACROSSTR MY HANDLE AND SUDDENLY DECIDED THEY NEEDED TO DROOL ON A RANDOM STRANGER ON THE INTERNET *RIGHT FUCKING THEN* NEVER MIND WHETHER OR NOT I MIGHT BE BUSY OR ANYTHING.

TA: hii two you two KK.

TA: what were you 2ayiing about botheriing people when theyre iin the miiddle of 2omethiing becau2e iin ca2e you havent notiiced.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] is busy --

CG: SHUT YOUR FACEGASH. IT IS A FUCKING PRIVILEGE TO BE ABLE TO TALK TO ME THESE DAYS BECAUSE APPARENTLY MY BULGE IS A WRIGGLING DAY GRUBLOAF AND EVERYONE WANTS A FUCKING PIECE OF IT.

CG: I KNOW YOU HAVE A HARD TIME ACCOMPLISHING SIMPLE FUCKING TASKS LIKE GETTING OUT OF THE GOD DAMN RECUPERACOON EVERY NIGHT, BUT WHAT COULD BE SO FUCKING IMPORTANT THAT YOU CAN’T EVEN ANSWER ONE SIMPLE AS FUCK QUESTION.

TA: fuck you 2hiithead, even 2omeone wiith your level of pandead mu2t realiize that planniing out a date ii2 more iimportant than helpiing 2ome fucker fiigure out iif he2 goiing two be “iinconveniienced”.

CG: OH LOOK AT THAT, YOU ACTUALLY LEARNED SOMETHING FROM THE NIGHT-LONG SCHOOLFEEDING ABOUT BEING FLUSHED. GOOD FUCKING JOB, YOU’VE CONQUERED BASIC ROMANCE. IT’S ONE FUCKING QUESTION, AND THEN YOU CAN GET BACK TO YOUR DATE.

CG: USING THAT ELOQUENT TRANSITION TO RETURN TO THE POINT OF THIS STUPID EXCHANGE, HOW MANY MORE TROLLS SHOULD I BE EXPECTING TO SHOW UP WHOM I WILL NEED TO SLAM THE THEORETICAL DOOR ON A LITERAL FACE.

TA: depend2, how many have you met?

CG: JUSTICE GIRL, ROLE-PLAYER MEOWBEAST GIRL, ARADIA, ARADIA’S TEAMMATE, SPIDERBITCH.

TA: that2 iit?

TA: there2 one more per2on but the only one who really talk2 two hiim ii2 tavro2 and he2 been really protectiive of hiim recently, 2o ii dont thiink you have anythiing two worry about there.

CG: PALE OR RED?

TA: red.

CG: OH.

TA: at lea2t we all thiink iit2 red, he deniie2 iit two the la2t.

TA: but 2iince you dragged me away from my work we miight a2 well get 2OMETHIING out of thii2 for me.

>TA: EQ, ED, FF, KN.

CG: WOW YOU ACTUALLY ASKED FOR ALL OF THEIR NAMES WITHOUT HAVING TO BE PRESSURED INTO IT.

TA: wiill you let that go already iit2 been half a 2weep.

CG: I’M NEVER LETTING YOU LIVE THAT DOWN.

CG: BUT YEAH, THAT’S EVERYONE.

TA: awe2ome, iim gonna go back two work now iif that2 everythiing.

CG: YEP. THAT WAS IT.

TA: alriight, bye, a22hat.

CG: LATER, DIPSHIT.

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

 

~~~~[Karkat]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

adiosToreador [AT] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

Your scowl deepens. Wasn’t this Aradia’s teammate?

Oh, God. What if this is his set up for revenge for that last trollian log? He’s probably been planning this whole time.

AT: aG JUST JUMPED ME OFF A CLIFF,

AT: wITH MY BRAIN,

AT: aND, uHH

AT: mY LEGS, aLSO,

AT: aND NOW, tHEY FEEL,

AT: iNVISIBLE,

AT: wOW, i'M SURE THERE WAS A BETTER WAY TO SAY THAT,

AT: aNYWAY,

AT: tHAT'S REALLY ALL THERE IS,

AT: tO REPORT ON THE SUBJECT,

AT: oF ME GETTING HURT,

Oh shit is he trying to lure you out? He’s better than you thought he was. Most trolls would invade his hive or finish him off if they knew he was hurt. A few would go to help him out, but that would be a rare exception and the only trolls you can think of who would pull shit like that are on your chumproll. You won’t fall for either trick and luckily, he doesn’t know where you live, so he can’t hurt you if you don’t fall for it. Since you’re in a good mood, you feel you deserve a little subtle gloating.

CG: HEY ASSHOLE, STOP PLAYING GAMES FOR GIRLS.

Wait. Shit. That’s just gonna make him angrier. Abort. Get the fuck out of there.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT]

There we go. You’re always at your best when you’re burning bridges. You mentally high-five yourself on your way to get a snack from your food preparation block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how the two groups (7 and 5) became 12! Through a series of pesterlogs! And in this we can also see another type of bonded vision! Did you see it?
> 
> (I'll probably edit these notes later but for right now, this is what they'll be)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a week? Miracles.

When Aradia tells you about the accident, accusing you with familiar all-caps in an unfamiliar rust red text color, the slap inside your head is much more painful and less congratulatory.

She tells you the story, and your pride curls in on itself and dies with every word.

Fuck, he’d tried to contact you when he couldn’t reach his teammates? Holy shit. And you called him an asshole and left. You ask Aradia (under the profanity and metaphors) who he contacted before you and why they didn’t help him, and she tells you that after he couldn’t contact her or Terezi, you’d been the first he tried to talk to. You ask why.

He told her that he remembered something she’d said about you. Something about you being calming? (What the fuck, you are not calming. You are terrifying and- this is not the time to be correcting someone on adjectives, Karkat, focus). And that he’d been panicking a little -fuck, of course he was panicking he couldn’t feel his God damned legs and his friend had just made him jump off a cliff, he could have _died_ \- and so he contacted you to try and see if your shouting could help calm him down until someone came.

You have never hated yourself more than you do in this moment. You wish you could go back and strangle yourself for ever thinking you were at your best.

You think Aradia gets that. She goes back to her all-undercase quirk again.

She tells you that she’s currently taking care of him. They’re hoping for his legs, but there’s not much they can do other than hope for them. Other than the legs thing, he should recover just fine.

She says he wants to talk to you. Your mouth goes dry.

AA: uM, hEY,

AA: oH, oOPS, hANG ON

apocalypseArisen [AA] changed account to adiosToreador [AT]

AT: tHERE, uM,

AT: bETTER,

AT: sO, uH, i WANTED TO ASK YOU FOR, uMM, sOME HELP WITH SOMETHING,

AT: i KNOW YOU, uH, hATE ME AND ALL, bUT, tHIS IS KIND OF IMPORTANT,,

CG: WELL IF YOU COULD SPIT IT OUT AND MAYBE NOT STUTTER THROUGH THE WHOLE DAMN THING LIKE A HALF-PANNED MORON I COULD ANSWER WHETHER OR NOT I GIVE ENOUGH SHITS TO BOTHER.

Did you seriously just yell at him? He just started recovery after being forced off a God damn cliff and you just made fun of him for having a stutter. What the fuck is wrong with you?

AT: sORRY, i’LL TRY TO TYPE FASTER,

AT: bUT, uM, bASICALLY, tHERE’S THIS FRIEND i HAVE,

AT: yOU HAVEN’T MET HIM YET, bUT HE’S REALLY NICE,,

AT: aND i WAS WONDERING IF YOU COULD, uM, mAYBE, bREAK THE NEWS TO HIM,

AT: tHE NEWS, tHAT IS, aBOUT MY LEGS NOT WORKING ANYMORE,

AT: hE’S PRETTY CALM, uSUALLY, bUT HE’S BEEN GOING THROUGH SORT OF, a ROUGH TIME RIGHT NOW, aND I’M, uMMM, wORRIED HOW HE’LL REACT TO THIS NEWS,,,,

AT: aND EVERYONE i KNOW SAYS YOU HAVE THIS, sORT OF, wAY WITH WORDS ABOUT YOU THAT, kIND OF,, uHH, rELAXES,

CG: YOU WANT ME TO TELL THIS FRIEND OF YOURS ABOUT THE ACCIDENT AND STOP THEM FROM FREAKING OUT.

AT: wELL, mOSTLY,,,

AT: bUT NOT, fREAK OUT, pER SAY, mORE LIKE,

AT: iF HE TRIES TO, uM, hURT vRISKA, oR LEAVE TO GO DO SOMETHING TO vRISKA, tHEN MAYBE, cALM HIM DOWN,

AT: wHENEVER HE GOES TO, uM, hURT SOMEONE, hE ALWAYS ENDS UP, rEALLY SAD ABOUT IT,,

AT: uM, yOU MIGHT HAVE TO, gO OVER TO HIS HIVE, tHOUGH, tO, yOU KNOW, kEEP HIM FROM LASHING OUT,

AT: aND THIS ISN’T REALLY THE KIND OF, uMM, nEWS YOU JUST, gIVE OVER TROLLIAN,

CG: WAIT WAIT WAIT, HOLD THE INVERSE CASE FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND.

CG: YOU ARE ASKING ME TO *VISIT* -AS IN PHYSICALLY ARRIVE AT THE DESTINATION OF- THE HIVE OF A TROLL *I DON’T FUCKING KNOW* TO DELIVER NEWS THAT HE WILL NOT ONLY REJECT, BUT VIOLENTLY REACT TO. AND YOU WANT ME TO, WHAT, EXACTLY.

AT: hELP HIM TO STAY CALM, wHEN HE HEARS ABOUT,

AT: yOU KNOW, mY LEGS,,,

CG: ARE YOU-

CG: ARE YOU ASKING ME TO PACIFY SOMEONE?

AT: wHAT, uMMMM, nO, nOT AT ALL,

AT: jUST, mAYBE, uHH, kEEP HIM FROM, kILLING PEOPLE,

AT: iN RETALIATION, tHAT IS,

CG: THAT’S PACIFYING. WHAT YOU JUST SAID WAS BASICALLY THE WORD ENCYCLOPEDIA DEFINITION OF PACIFYING. WITH MORE PAUSE LINES.

CG: I DON’T HAVE A MOIRAIL, BUT I’M NOT JUST GOING TO GO TO SOMEONE’S HOUSE AND PACIFY THEM JUST BECAUSE SOME STUTTERING FUCK FROM THE INTERNET SAID TO. I’M NOT SOME PALE FOR HIRE, AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT SOLLUX TOLD YOU, BUT I HAVE STANDARDS.

AT: i CAN’T TELL YOU, hOW TO CALM HIM,

AT: iF YOU, uH, cAN’T, tHOUGH, yOU MIGHT HAVE TO, kNOCK HIM OUT, bUT THAT MIGHT BE, dIFFICULT,,

CG: DO YOU HEAR HOW FUCKING CRAZY THIS FUCKING PLAN IS OR DID THE FALL KNOCK ALL THE SENSE OUT OF YOUR THINK PAN TOO?

CG: THERE IS NO WAY IN ALL OF ALTERNIA THAT I AM GOING TO SOME RANDOM TROLL’S HIVE OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF ASSFUCK NOWHERE FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN THAT I SHOULD FEEL GUILTY AND WANT TO “MAKE IT UP TO YOU” FOR YELLING AT YOU ABOUT SHIT YOU SHOULD HAVE ALREADY KNOWN.

CG: OF ALL THE FUCKING FAVORS YOU COULD HAVE ASKED FOR, THIS IS BY FAR THE STUPIDEST, MOST SHITHIVE THING YOU COULD HAVE POSSIBLY PROPOSED. THE MERE THOUGHT OF AGREEING TO THIS SUICIDE MISSION OF A “FAVOR” MAKES ME WANT TO RIP OUT MY SPONGE, SHOVE IT INTO A COMPUTER SLOT AND HAVE SOLLUX REPROGRAM IT TO THE KIND OF THINKPAN THAT CAN BE TRUSTED WITH SHIT LIKE BASIC SURVIVAL KNOWLEDGE. 

CG: STEP ONE OF OPERATION RECONSTRUCT IS TO PROGRAM IN THE MOST BASIC OF ALL SURVIVAL KNOWLEDGE “NEVER LEAVE YOUR FUCKING HIVE UNLESS YOU HAVE TO, AND IF YOU DO, AVOID DIRECT CONTACT WITH TROLLS OUTSIDE OF PUBLIC SITUATIONS AT ALL COSTS”. I TRUST CAPTOR ENTIRELY TO COMPLETE THIS STEP. AFTER ALL, IT’S HIS FAVORITE ONE.

adiosToreador [AT] changed account to apocalypseArisen [AA]

AA: karkat i realize that this is a l0t t0 ask especially 0f s0me0ne y0uve never met

AA: and i will 0verl00k the slight 0n s0llux as a nerv0us habit

AA: but we need help and as unf0rtunate as the situati0n is y0u are the 0nly pers0n we are capable 0f sending at the m0ment

AA: and f0r the rec0rd we arent mad at y0u f0r yelling at him despite the circumstances

AA: we are mad at y0u f0r ign0ring a plea f0r help with0ut c0ntacting any0ne else ab0ut it

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. This is insanity. No fucking troll on the face of Alternia would be stupid enough to go along with this. Your pan is shouting at you to refuse and to turn off your husktop and walk away before shit hits the rotating air cooling device anymore.

The small bit whispers you can either agree and go play babysitter to this guy’s apparently violent friend, or you can deal with having all of your new chumproll handles, one or two old friends, probably Sollux, and especially Aradia hate you for the rest of your life.

CG: FINE. WHATEVER. WHERE DOES THE BULGEWIPE LIVE AND WHAT’S HIS NAME.

You are beginning to hate the small bit.

He gives you the name and address. You finish off all the arrangements vis a vis taking care of your lusus (Aradia’s busy but she knows someone who can help) and traveling plans. Your goodbye is short, clipped, and awkward. You pack everything so that you’ll be ready to go first thing tomorrow, feed your lusus his last meal of the night, and then climb in your recuperacoon.

You dream you have gray, almost invisible legs, and you’re falling with a black and white lance through your torso. As you descend, ribbons of light brown spill around the edges of the wound, widening the bronze symbol on your black shirt. You wake up before you hit the gray ground. You’re pretty sure you know what happened anyway.

~~~~[Sollux]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your date with Aradia is tomorrow and to say you’re nervous would be such a high ranking understatement it’s almost crossed the threshold into statement. Even coding, an activity that your un-medicated emotionally unbalanced self found thoughtless, can’t hold your attention for more than a few moments and you throw your hands up after only a couple lines in frustration at the realization that this virus is just going to have to wait until the night after tomorrow.

Or maybe the day after that if the date goes well enough. Ehehehe.

Unfortunately, without your coding, there’s really nothing else you have to distract yourself with. Per KK’s instructions, you cleaned your hive a little so it looked lived in but not in disuse -wouldn’t want her thinking you can’t take care of yourself and turning pale which is apparently A FUCKING THING THAT HAPPENS YOU STUPID FUCK DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ROMANCE OR AM I GOING TO HAVE TO SPOONFEED THE ENTIRE QUADRANT SYSTEM TO YOU LITTLE BY LITTLE FOR IT TO SINK INTO YOUR THICK THINKPAN. SOME TROLLS TAKE A LONGER TIME TO COLORBOND AND HIGHER BLOODS HAVE THE LIFESPANS TO BE ANTSY ABOUT TOUCHING ON THE FIRST FEW DATES. THAT LEAVES PLENTY OF TIME TO VASCILLATE BEFORE THEY HAVE TO SETTLE DOWN AND REALLY SEE IF THEY’VE FOUND THEIR SERENDIPIDTY.

The clock on your husktop says its 3:27 which comes as sort of a surprise. You’ve only been pacing for three minutes? Fuck. It felt like thirty.

It’s close to when you usually eat lunch, though. Maybe you can burn some more moonlight while you’re eating. You wander into your kitchen to make yourself something.

Well, fuck. You don’t have anything to eat. You should have fucking guessed. The state of your foodcloset is another one of the few bad habits that carried over with the evened moods. Hating being in public never stopped being a thing with you, and that is especially true for the grocery trade building. With a sigh and a hand run down your face you think about your options.

You made some money selling a few of your most recent coding projects, but not enough to feel okay with splurging on a decent restaurant. You’re too jittery to have to deal with the kind of people at fast-food places. Take-out sounds awful; delivery, worse. Normally you might be able to hold out on buying groceries for as long as possible, but you have that date tomorrow and you don’t want to risk some symptom of food deprivation during it. You don’t think Aradia’s that sensitive, but you really don’t want her flipping pale before you get the chance to find out if you have a warmbond. You try to avoid emotional crises as much as possible, and that situation shoots up a giant red flag with the words GET THE FUCK OUT printed on it. In glitter. With fireworks in the background.

Aw fuck, you’re going to have to go to the grocery trade building, aren’t you? God damn it.

You hate being in public. You can always tell who’s found what quadrant of soulmate from how much time they spend staring at your face and where. Right ocular lens, matesprit. Left lens, kismesis. Like a game of spin the arrow to find placement of limbs along the color-dotted mat. Shit gets old about as fast as that game too. And you’re not just talking about the name. You grumble as you get your palmhusk and a jacket, but at least the irritations of the store might help get your mind off your nerves.

Your destination isn’t too far away from your hive, and you arrive before you even feel the effects of psionic flight in the back of your pan.

A few minutes into the actual ordeal, you find yourself in a slightly better mood. You allowed yourself a couple more seconds to scowl at the sign at the four-wheeled product transfer device pick-up that reads “Cart Return” (seriously, though, where in the hell did the highbloods get the name “cart” how is anyone supposed to know what that does if you didn’t know the low-blood slang). You started your usual game of Count the Bonded a few minutes later than you’re used to, but you’ve already had good results; 1 warm, 3 colds, and 1 that was either pale or ashen (both like to stare for an uncomfortable amount of time at your horns, but ashen's a rare bond to have), when your palmhusk chimes.

You see the handle and smile.

apocalypseArisen [AA] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

AA: hi s0llux

TA: hey AA.

TA: you ready for our date two?

TA: becau2e iim pretty 2ure tiime ii2 2lowiing down ju2t two 2piite me.

It takes her a lot longer to answer than usual, but you just found yourself caught up in the age-old struggle between potato chip flavors so you only vaguely notice. Your husktop only chimes after you load the last bag of savory into your four-wheeled product transporting device.

AA: im really really s0rry s0llux

AA: but s0mething came up recently and i

AA: i need t0 p0stp0ne 0ur date f0r a little while

…

Oh. That’s- uh. Well.

You bite your lip. You’re in public, damn it.

She has every right to delay the date. Things come up, Sollux. Calm down. It’s fine.

TA: ii2 everythiing okay

AA: um

AA: it will be

AA: this is s0mething i need t0 deal with 0n my 0wn th0ugh

AA: bef0re we g0 0ut 

AA: s0 that n0thing can distract us 0n 0ur date

TA: iif you need any help though

AA: y0ull be the first t0 kn0w

AA: i have t0 g0 n0w

AA: talk t0 y0u later

TA: 2ure yeah of cour2e aa

TA: <3

AA: <3

apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA] 

Your teeth bite through your lip. Blood trickles down your chin. You can already tell it won’t be the only source of yellow on your face.

You abandon your cart and leave the store. Delivery sounds better anyway.

~~~~[Karkat]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You have many rules about going out, but the first and foremost priority is covering every shred of skin you can get away with. No matter what time of year it is, you wear a black shellbeastneck sweater, gray, baggy jeans just slightly too long for your legs, and black gloves. Head coverings are considered suspicious within troll society, so unfortunately your entire fucking head area is open. But as long as you’re keeping with the first key to living when you’re a mutant, avoiding attention, you can deal without a hood. This is more in case you accidentally hurt yourself and a bruise or cut starts forming, but it also minimizes the chance you might touch some fucking un-colorbonded lowblood and accidentally ruin all the hard work you’ve put into not dying. You’re just glad that the dim season chills finally set in. This whole get-up gets unbearable during bright season.

The walk to this asshole’s hive is surprisingly without incident, but the further you go, the more nervous you get. Tavros warned you that he lived close to the ocean, and a seatroll attack is the last thing you need.

The first thing you think about this place on the edge of the waterline is that the troll who owns it must have a death wish because no sane, life-pitying land-dwelling troll would ever willingly _stand_ this close to sea-dweller territory, never mind living there of one’s own volition.

You were told that you would know his hive by the giant yellow umbrella on the roof. You don’t know what you were expecting, but sure enough, there is a giant, yellow-ass, opened umbrella on the roof, shading half of the fucking house from the Goddamn moons. Fuck, if this guy is a yellow-blood then he’s the craziest little shit you’ve ever had the displeasure of being about to meet. The hive’s a little smaller than yours too, partially supporting the yellow-blood theory. True, hive size doesn’t necessarily mean much color-wise, but the construction drones are usually more willing to build bigger hives for cooler blood colors, and a troll’s territorial nature demands to use as much space as it can get away with.

Tavros told you, eventually, that he warned his friend in advance of your arrival, so you’re not too worried about being mistaken for an intruder and slaughtered. You are nervous when you knock on the door: you have to turn your back on the beach to do so, and a sea-dweller could come above the waves and attack you at any time.

You’re checking the waterline for the third time when the entrance portal opens. When you turn around, you’re assaulted with the sight of a tall, lanky troll with facepaint smiling unabashedly down at you. There’s a purple sign on his chest.

Oh holy fuck you are going to shank Nitram with the splinters from his ribs for sending you to _pacify a grub-fucking purple blood_.

He blinks incomprehensibly at your frozen-stiff form on the front entry portal platform. When your shape registers in his mind, a dazed smile grows on his face behind a mask of gray and white paint. He takes a slight step forward, reaches out and whAT THE FUCK.

The first thing you find out about Gamzee Makara is that he has absolutely no qualms about wrapping his arms around a troll he has never met on his entry portal and _lifting them off the fucking ground in a hug_.

“You must be the fresh miracle my Tavbro was up and motherfucking speaking of,” the taller troll slurs, voice warm and oddly creaky, “how was the way all up here to my motherfucking entry portal?”

He better not find incomprehensible blinking insulting. Because that’s all you seem to be able to do at the moment.

You’re a little stunned by the turn of events. Never mind the taboo of touching an un-colorbonded troll in public (thank God there’s clothing in the way of the hug, blocking the hormones on your skin, but the fucking chin on the chest of your sweater is really pushing personal boundaries). Nevermind the fact that a purple-blood is not immediately clubbing you for coming near his hivestem. The fact that he’s actually acting happy in the presence of a troll that _he doesn’t know_ is so unnerving that you’re having trouble processing it, but the way your face goes blank must ask the right question to him.

“Walkin’ up here, motherfucker!” he clarifies fondly, as though you should have known what he was talking about but he’s perfectly fine with telling you anyway, “How up and was that? I hope it was a motherfucking bitchtits time.”

Is this real? Are you dreaming? What is happening?

He lowers you, and the movement lurches you back to what you’re hoping isn’t reality anymore.

“What the actual fuck, asshole?” Your voice is tight with a receding panic you’re hoping he didn’t notice, “What fucking dipshit failed to teach that you can’t just lift random trolls off the ground before they even get a chance to say who they are? What if I had been a fucking threshecutioner here to cull your useless ass for being an incompetent-”

His round of chuckling interrupts your rant, and the fucker actually reaches out and ruffles your hair what the fuck is happening.

“Ain’t no motherfuckers visiting my hive, Tavbro’s bro. When he hit me up to tell me about this friend of his all comin up just to talk to little old me ‘bout some righteous new truths, it was miracles. I all up and had my own doubts since you was later than I up and thought, but,” he tries to sweep his arm out in a grand gesture but smacks his cheek on the backswing, “then a troll shows up on my motherfucking doorstep all looking ‘round and shit. Motherfucking miracles.”

You can’t seem to shake the feeling that someone is pulling your nub. As he starts leading you into his hive, you look around for possible hidden cameras. Maybe this is one of those TV shows where they prank trolls and then cull them for failing to notice the lurking crew, thus proving them incapable of properly serving Her Imperial Condescension.

You keep not seeing cameras, but that might just be because they’re hidden.

Before you know it, the two of you are in his respiteblock. At least, you think it’s a respiteblock. It could be the room where he keeps all the garbage he finds on the beach; how the fuck would you know?

There’s piles of shit everywhere, but the one he chooses to flop -that’s really the only word you can use in this scenario- into is the least comfortable looking one. It deflates slightly with a much louder “HONK!” than you were expecting. There’s a table by his recuperacoon littered with metal pans filled with an unnervingly glowing green jelly-like subs- is that sopor slime?

“Why the fuck do you have sopor slime out of your Goddamn recuperacoon?” You ask. He arches his back until he’s on the crown of his head to look behind him. What even is this guy?

“Aw, you mean my motherfuckin’ pies?”

“Sure, let’s call them that.”

“Well, they ain’t for sleepin’ in, so they don’t got a reason to be in the ‘coon anymore.”

“What?” You think it’s a reasonable question, but he laughs like you’re a wiggler asking where the moon is.

“Well, you don’t all up and bring your food to where ya sleep, that’s all _types_ of motherfuckin’ messed up.”

His food? What the fuck does that have to do wi-

Holy shit. Ho-LY shit, is he fucking eating that crap?

You look back at the table with dawning horror. Sure enough, there are a few pies near the other piles around it that have varying amount of contents removed, crumbs on the floor.

You’ve joked about breaking your aggression sponge in shock in the past, but you have never actually _felt_ it before. There are no words to describe what you’re feeling, but fuck if you aren’t going to fucking try.

“Are-” your throat constricts again in horror, and you have to swallow before you can speak again, “Are you fucking saying that, of all the things you could possibly be eating, you’re _choosing_ to ingest _sopor slime_?”

His smile goes a little fuzzy and you find yourself wondering how much he’s had in the last hour, “My pies? Nah, bro I got more shit I eat.” He gets up presumably to show you. Oh good, you were beginning to think that this guy was legitimately only ea- Is that a bottle?

“I gots myself some motherfuckin’ Faygo, too. Ain’t nothing like kickin’ back the wicked elixir to wash down a mouthful of pie.”

Your legs have lost the ability to support you under the weight of this fucking revelation. His face takes up a look of drugged fascination as you slowly sink to the floor. What is this troll fucking thinking? Okay, maybe Faygo is just a shitty soda, but he’s using it to eat pies _made out of sopor slime_. Does he _know_ how fucking dangerous sopor slime is?

Woah, okay, Karkat. Reel it in. You were adamant that this was _not_ about pacifying. Stop it right the fuck now.

He’s walking towards you slowly as though walking too fast will startle you. That should be something _you_ worry about from _him_ , but it’s not. It’s so weird. Did the narcotic effects of sopor ingestion make him like this? But wouldn’t that take an insane amount of sopor? You’re sure he’s got someone to make sure he doesn’t overdose, but Captor said the only guy who really talks to him is Tavros.

Did Tavros fucking know about this?

You stand up faster than a troll can blink and walk through the dizziness in your pan from the too-sudden shift. Gamzee jumps back with a surprised honk.

“I’m using your husktop,” you force out. His open-mouthed stare turns into a toothy grin.

“Sure thing, bro,” his voice grates out before his body falls with clumsy grace into the horn pile again.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling adiosToreador [AT]

CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HIM.

AT: sORRY,

AT: bUT WHO?

CG: THIS FUCKING JUGGALO ASSHOLE YOU GOT ME STUCK WITH. YOU KNOW. GAMZEE. WHAT THE ABSOLUTE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS GUY.

AT: hE’S, uM, fRIENDLY?

CG: FRIENDLY.

CG: HE’S ON SOPOR.

CG: LET ME REPEAT THAT TO MAKE SURE IT GETS THROUGH TO YOU: THIS FUCKING PURPLE-BLOODED ASSHOLE HAS SOMEHOW SURVIVED THIS FAR IN LIFE INHALING SOPOR LIKE OXYGEN.

CG: NITRAM, I’M GOING TO ASK ONE MORE TIME.

CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HIM.

AT: i DIDN’T KNOW, tHAT gAMZEE WAS, uH, a PURPLE-BLOOD,

AT: bUT, hE, uH, tOLD ME ABOUT IT, tHE SOPOR ADDICTION,

AT: i DON’T REALLY THINK IT’S, uMM, mY THING TO TALK ABOUT,,,,

CG: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO MAKE ME ASK HIM BECAUSE I THINK THIS WHOLE “BREAK BAD NEWS TO A HIGH AS FUCK PURPLE-BLOOD” SCENARIO WOULD GO A LOT BETTER WITHOUT STARTING OFF ON A “HEY, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THE SOPOR ADDICTION YOU HAVE” NOTE.

AT: nONONO, pLEASE DON’T ASK HIM,

AT: hE, uH, aLWAYS GETS UPSET, wHEN HE TALKS ABOUT HIS, uM, lUSUS,,

AT: iF i TELL YOU, wILL YOU, uH, pLEASE NOT BRING IT UP, tO gAMZEE,

CG: TAVROS, I’M A WELL-KNOWN REVIEWER ON A FUCKING MOVIE SITE. IF THERE’S ONE THING I KNOW, OTHER THAN ROMANCE AND, OH YEAH, EVERY-FUCKING-THING, IT’S NOT TO SPOIL THE CINEMATIC CLIMAX.

AT: iS THAT A, uM, yES,

CG: WHAT DO *YOU* THINK, NITRAM.

AT: uH, i GUESS THAT WORKS, tHEN,

AT: hIS LUSUS DOESN’T REALLY,, 

AT: vISIT HIM ALL THAT OFTEN, 

AT: aND HE, uM, 

AT: tHAT IS, gAMZEE’S LUSUS, 

AT: cOULDN’T BRING gAMZEE FOOD A LOT, 

AT: sO gAMZEE, uH,

AT: hE ATE THE ONLY THING HE, wELL,

AT: hAD,,,,,

CG: …

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF ONE MORE PERSON I KNOW DEVELOPS A FUCKING SOB STORY I’M GOING TO LOCK MYSELF IN MY HIVE BECAUSE I SIMPLY CANNOT FUCKING DEAL WITH THIS SHIT.

CG: SO YOU ARE TELLING ME.

CG: THAT THIS “MOTHERFUCKER” HAS A DEADBEAT LUSUS, AND TO MAKE UP FOR THE FOOD THAT IT DIDN’T BRING, HE ATE SOPOR SLIME.

CG: CAN YOU EVEN SURVIVE ON SOPOR SLIME?

AT: wELL, yES,

AT: gAMZEE DID,

God damn it. Did he have to fucking say that?

You sneak a glance back at the center of your discussion to find him staring at the roof in dazed bliss.

CG: ON A LIST OF ALL THE FUCKING THINGS THAT YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY, THAT ONE WAS TOP 5. CONGRATULATIONS, NITRAM, IF I THOUGHT YOU WERE A PIECE OF SHIT FOR TRAPPING ME IN THIS SITUATION, YOU HAVE SOMEHOW SUCCESSFULLY CLIMBED ANOTHER RUNG ON THE ASSHOLE ECHELADDER. YOUR TITLE WENT FROM “SOMEWHAT OF A DOUCHEBAG” TO “PRACTICALLY BREATHES ASSHAT”.

AT: i’M, uHH, gOING TO ASSUME THE CONGRATS, wAS SARCASTIC, sO, i’M SORRY, fOR, uH, SAYING THAT, i GUESS,

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] changed status to Away -- 

AT: uM, wHAT,

You are momentarily distracted from your conversation by a juggalo asshole draping himself over your head.

“Aw, shit, is that my main Tavbro now? Miracles,” his efforts to get to the keyboard lowers more of his weight onto your head, and you flail in an attempt to get him off of you so you don’t snap your neck.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] changed status to Active --= 

CG: Yo, WhAt Is Up My NiNjAbRo?

AT: gAMZEE?

CG: HoNk :o)

AT: oH NO, uH, gAMZEE, pLEASE DON’T READ THE CONVERSATION, tHAT kARKAT AND i JUST HAD,

CG: SuRe ThInG, mY iNvErTiBrOtHeR! aIn’T nOnE oF mY cOnCeRn WhAt YoU aNd ThIs FrEsH mOtHeRfUcKeR bE aLl Up AnD mOtHeRfUcKiN jAmMiN aBoUt

AT: oH, gOOD,

AT: uM,

AT: hAS kARKAT, tALKED TO YOU, yET?

CG: NaH, tHiS fReSh-AsS NuBbRo JuSt Up AnD MaDe It HeRe. I bEeN sHoWiN hIm ArOuNd AnD sHiT

AT: oH, uH, oKAY THEN,

AT: wHY DID YOU, cALL HIM NUBBRO?

CG: Oh, MaN!

CG: hE’s GoT tHeSe HoRnS, sEe, AlL mOtHeRfUcKiN sHoRt AnD rOuNd As pIe.

CG: MiRaClEs FoR lEaNiN oN :o)

AT: tHIS WAS NOT SOMETHING, oF WHICH I WAS AWARE,

Your gloved hands finally find purchase on his face, and you force him off your head. He spills to the side as you read through his ungodly text and do damage control.

CG: IF YOU FUCKING TELL ANYONE ABOUT WHAT YOU JUST FUCKING HEARD I WILL PERSONALLY CULL YOU.

AT: uNDERSTOOD

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT]

Gamzee hasn’t moved, but this seems to be a lifestyle choice rather than a medical problem. The position he landed in can’t be comfortable, but he smiles a huge grin when you crane your neck from the chair to look at his face. He shows no sign of moving soon. You debate whether you should just tell him and get out of here when his stomach growls.

The news can wait. You have to make sure this guy lives long enough to hear it first.

“Where’s your food preparation block?” You think it’s a pretty normal question, but he blinks at you with that dopey grin on his face like you didn’t even open your mouth. Has he only heard the highblood term? “Your… kitchen?” More blinking. Does- does this fucker not know where it is? Is he fucking kidding you?

“Here, bro,” he stands, cracking his back, “it‘s right this way.” He walks towards the door and down a curvy, nonsensical hallway, and now that you’re not focused on finding spy equipment, you realize you’re having to walk faster than normal to match his long, relaxed strides. Fuck, how long are this asshole’s legs? “Gotta be real with ya, wasn’t expectin’ no motherfuckers to be up and usin’ my food prep block. Warnin ya, bro. Prolly got shit everywhere.”

“Is ‘shit everywhere’ better or worse than the abysmal state your fucking respite block is in because you’re probably growing fungus -and no, dipshit, not the fun kind- under all the soda stains, sopor slime puddles, and horns. By the way, if I get shit caught in my fucking respiratory sacs, you’re footing the damn medical bill.” You growl back, slightly breathless from the unusual walking pace. He chuckles deeply and you notice a slight honk in the middle of it.

“Aw, bro. You know my shit’s all motherfucking clean as the miracles on a bottle of cold Faygo.”

“The what?”

“You know. The way elixir on the inside of the motherfuckin bottle becomes water on the outside. Like,” he stops and turns to you with a look of ecstatic wonder on his face, like he’s passionately debating life’s great questions, “what the motherfuck is up with that? Miracles. Only thing I know as can turn wicked elixir into water is miracles.”

You don’t know why this little spiel is making something in your chest twist. You assume this is what unadulterated shock feels like. He doesn’t. He doesn- HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT FUCKING CONDENSATION IS SO HE HAS CONVINCED HIMSELF THAT IT IS _MIRACLES_ PUSHING SODA _*OUT* OF THE BOTTLE_ AND _TURNING IT INTO WATER_ HOW HAS THIS FUCKING TROLL NOT GOTTEN HIMSELF _KILLED_ OUT OF SHEER INEPTITUDE AND UTTER INCOMPETENCE HOW IS _ANY TROLL_ SUPPOSED TO HANDLE THIS HORRID, UNBE-FUCKING-LIEVABLE DISPLAY WITHOUT DEVELOPING A GOD DAMN ANEURISM.

He opens a door before your sponge can get the words to your mouth and you’re greeted by what you are pretty sure is a nightmare.

Apparently when he said “shit everywhere”, what he meant by “shit” was fucking EMPTY PIE TINS because they are EVERYWHERE. They overflow the sink. They litter the counter and table, in some cases to the point where they’re precariously perched right on the edge. Green-tinged stains from previous spills are on the table legs, cabinets, oven, floor, thermal hull (you _wonder_ what the fuck he keeps in there), and sink. There’s even one huge circle on the roof right above a horn haphazardly lying on the floor. You can guess what happened there. The only place in the whole block that doesn’t have empty pie tins is the oven, which is baking four full pies right now.

This…

This is going to take a lot of work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turns out, the thermal hull actually had real food and lots of it. He demonstrates an okay ability to prepare with it. The main problem with his cooking is that he spaces out at random intervals, taking long amounts of time to do simple tasks like chopping or stirring. When you weren’t looking, he actually stared at the boiling water in the kettle -which he forgot to add the other ingredients for the broth to- for so long that it had almost completely evaporated by the time you noticed.

He explains this behavior as “appreciating the bitchtits miracles all around” which never ceases to seize your mind in anger and disgusted amazement.

The soup it takes you the good side of two hours to make is actually kind of worth it.

Gamzee says something along those lines as well, but to repeat what he said, even in your own mind, would cause for your body to mutiny and decide that the soup needs to make an encore.

Now that you know he’s full of something other than poison, you feel much more comfortable with dropping the bombshell that’s resting on your shoulders. You both got to talk a little while you were preparing food and he was staring at shit. He told you about his shithive maggots religion; you told him about your movie review cred. Of course, the topic of Tavros eventually came up. You thought about telling him then and there in the hope he’d be too stoned to understand the real implications of what you were saying until you were long gone, but he kept talking about how Tavros was the “greatest motherfucking fucking miracle of all”, and you. You couldn’t do it. You can’t just fucking tell a guy that his “greatest miracle” will never walk again out of nowhere like that.

“Um, Gamzee, I have something I need to tell you,” you start, kneeling on the floor in front of the horn pile he’s spread out on. He raises his head about 180 degrees from where it was hanging over the top to look at you and the movement is still strange and weird as shit, but you’re beginning to think that strange and weird is the definition of Gamzee Makara.

“Aw, shit, bro. Is this the real talk my Tavbro was up and warning me about? Shit.” He scrambles to where his knees are drawn against his chest, his arms lazily crossed and resting on them, and his head lying sideways against his arms, grinning wide. This is the most serious you’ve seen him since you got here. “Okay, lay it on a motherfucker.”

You close your eyes and steel yourself for what you’re about to say. “I have some really bad news that I need to tell you,” you glance at his face, gauging his reaction, and there hasn’t been a change so far. “It’s about Tavros.” His face doesn’t move, but his eyes seem to focus. You’ve got his undivided attention now.

“Tavros,” how the fuck are you supposed to do this, “was hurt recently while Flarping. He was doing a -what the fuck are they called- campaign, act-”

“Session.” Gamzee supplies, sharp gaze aimed right at you. His smile falters, and you remember for the first time since your arrival why Tavros wanted someone to be present when Gamzee heard.

“Yeah, session. Anyway, it ended up being rigged against him. He was backed against a cliff with some very powerful enemies at his front. He refused to fight, and his session leader-”

“Clouder.” He corrects, smile quickly fading from his face. “Which one?”

“What?”

“There’s only one motherfucking clouder per session and TavBRO,” he enunciates it like a bullet meant to pierce straight through your thinkpan, “plays with three bitches, only two of which service as motherfucking clouders, now I’m goin’ to all up and ask you one more motherfucking time. which. one.” He snarls, and in it you see a flash of the insanity his blood color promises. You feel the blood drain from your face.

“Vriska Serket.” You respond automatically. His face flashes in recognition and he nods, settling.

“His clouder,” you pause and under the pretense of shifting uncontrollably, strategically moving the balls of feet under yourself, “she made him jump off the cliff.”

His entire body tenses. You take a deep breath and shift back until you’re sitting on your heels with your weight on your toes.

“His legs got messed up in the fall, and Aradia says he might never walk again.”

His eyes blink red.

The next thing you know you’re body blocking him from leaving the horn pile.

“Get out of the motherfucking way. I have some Goddamn _business_ to talk with a certain spiderbitch.”

“Gamzee, we _all_ have some fucking business we need to deal with when it comes to her because it’s not fine and it’s not cool and fuck if any of us are going to just let her get away with this but-”

“BUT NOTHING,” he roars in your face. You actively fight against the impulse to jump back. “That BITCH hurts all kinds of motherfuckers, and I up and fucking get that, but if she thinks she can up and hurt Tavros, the only question left is how hard she’s gonna get the sick end of my club. But you have the MOTHERFUCKING GALL to say that I shouldn’t get some motherfucking revenge on for him? An eye for an eye, _bro,_ ” he snarls, his teeth an inch away from ripping into your nose, challenging you with the word, “and a leg for a mother _fucking_ leg. Now you’re either on my team, or-”

“There are no _teams_ in this, Gamzee.”

He chuckles darkly, “Of course not,” he agrees, straightening to tower over you, “but there _are_ sides. There’s hers and mine. Which one are YOU on, _motherfucker_?”

You stare him straight in the eyes with the most defiant look you can muster.

“Didn’t you hear me, motherfucker?” He says, tone mockingly sweet but with an edge that drills like his wild-eyed stare, “I up and said-”

“ _I_ am on _Tavros’s_ side,” you growl back, “The way _you_ should be,” his eyes narrow and you continue before he can cut in, “Tavros sent me to _keep you_ from doing any stupid ass shit you’ll regret, and I plan on keeping my promise, so unless you’re planning a _murder_ as well as an assault, you’re not going anywhere.”

Other than an almost imperceptible twitch in his left eye, he stares unblinking at you with intense focus, and you mirror it. The air between you is tense with the knowledge that neither of you plan to let up. There’s no anger anymore, only pride and scarily-sober stubbornness. Every second he refuses to back down, you become more aware of what exactly it is you have to do.

You had assured Tavros that you would _not_ be pacifying anyone.

“Shoosh, you fucking psycho clown.” You growl softly, reaching up to pap his cheek. The reaction is immediate, eyes closing and head nuzzling slightly into your glove.

And once again, past you shows what an incredibly wrong fuck-up he is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can a motherfucker say something, though?” Gamzee asks you from what you now call “his spot” in the horn pile. Since post-freakout, when you explained that what happened was not at all quadrant-related pacifying _because it was absolutely needed, and trolls do that all the fucking time_ he’s calmed down a lot more. You sit at his desk, currently bulging around on the internet.

“If you can stop ruining the word motherfucker for me, then fine. I’ll allow it,” You retort. He chuckles lightheartedly when he’s not shithive maggots.

“Sure thing,” he accepts, “but it’s about your motherfucking sign, bro.” You turn in your chair to face him and raise an eyebrow suspiciously. For obvious reasons, you’re very protective about your sign. It’s a symbol of your blood-caste and the fate it entails. Luckily, there are too many existing symbols for anyone to memorize all of them and their meaning, but you know people with weirder hobbies than blood-caste reading.

“What about my Goddamn sign?”

“It‘s all like,” he pauses, eyebrow scrunching with his mouth open in what you’ve realized is his thinking face, “honk. Hang on.” He scrambles to his feet and moves to the table in front of his recuperacoon, picking up a cooling pie there. Your eyebrow raises further when he brings it towards you. He raises his empty hand in what he probably thinks is a reassuring gesture. It might help if the hand wasn’t covered in slime.

“Draw your sign on the wall like this,” he instructs. Dipping his finger into the slime, he draws a line on the desk to demonstrate.

“Okay... just stop ruining an already crappy desk with more fucking stains.” You take off your gloves to keep from staining them and follow his example, dipping your finger into the slime to draw your symbol on the wall by the window to your left. “Now what the fuck is this all ab-” when you turn around, he’s standing on the chair you were previously occupying and leaning on his free forearm against the wall to draw something above you. “Okay, what the fuck, asshole. You’re going to break your chair like that.”

“Nah, bro. I got this all fucking covered and ain’t nobody sayin’ anythin’ on the otherwise,” he looks down at you from his position and smiles, wide and dopey, “now get your motherfuckin’ turn on. I ain’t motherfuckin’ done yet, and surprises aren’t miracles ‘less they’re motherfuckin’ done.”

“I _am_ fucking turned around,” you grumble. He laughs and pats your head as he pushes himself off the wall. He almost falls completely off the other side of the chair, but he corrects himself with a leg up and practiced ease.

“Miraculous.”

“I fucking hate that word because of you.”

“Bro, that motherfucking hurts to hear you say,” he moves between you and the wall, so you can’t see what he’s doing from the way you’re standing. There’s no venom or sadness in his words. After a moment, he grabs your shoulders and turns you around. “Cause look! You’re all up and wearing one.”

You stare at the image a good 30 seconds before coming to the conclusion that it’s fucking garbage. You cross your arms with a huff.

“And what kind of fucking ‘miracle’ should I be seeing?” You ask. He exhales in frustration.

“Hang on, bro. I’ll show you.” He dips his finger in the pie again and leans against you so he can add his supposed explanation to the drawing.

“See,” he starts, “these are the motherfuckin’ faces of the mirthful messiahs and they be all representing this motherfucker’s miraculous beliefs. See, the righteous rage is the frowny one and the jammin’ one’s the one below all this mess. Now look,” he finishes with a flourish.

“Take your motherfuckin’ circles away from them curvin’ lines and add some eyes, and you got yourself the symbol of the messiahs. Like earlier, when I was seein’ red and you just kept me from goin’ on a righteous rage blitz.” He wraps his arms around you while you stare at the wall. “It‘s like one of the biggest fuckin’ miracles of all. It‘s like that troll disease we gots called friendship. Hell, might even be best friendship.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, bulgelicker.” You snap, reaching to slap one of his arms, only to end up just kind of… keeping your hand there. “You just wanted an excuse to draw your weird clown religion all over your fucking wall.”

“Motherfuckin’ probably,” he laughs, peeling himself away from you. He grabs a handful of slime from the pie you just used to draw and shoves it in his mouth. You cringe pretty fucking hard.

“Are you fucking serious? That’s disgusting. That’s probably got dirt and skin cells in it and,” he takes another bite from his hand and you cringe, “for fuck’s sake at least use some fucking silverware like a fucking civilized troll.”

“Sure thing,” he pipes up, beginning to walk away. He pauses at the door, wheeling around to face you with a wide grin.

“Best friend.”

He gets three full seconds to twirl back and saunter away before your mind catches up with your mouth and you’re unleashing a verbal assault so loud the various clutter shakes. The hornpile in the corner honks its applauding agreement with every point.

You’re not blushing at all. Fuck off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There’s no way you can get home before the sun rises. But if Gamzee is offering what you think he’s offering then you’d rather take your chances.

“C’mon, bro. It‘s big enough for two, and you ain’t gettin’ home before the giant motherfuckin’ sun come up. I don’t want my new best friend burnin’ like one of Tavbro’s sick fires.”

“First of all, the only thing burning here is my pan at the thought that you’d know anything about what Tavros’s slam poems are like. Secondly, I would rather sleep in the ablution trap with the contents of all your pies dumped onto me than in a half-full recuperacoon with you.”

He frowns an honest-to-God “:o(“ at you. Fuck dammit. That twisting in your chest has got to be something medically fucking wrong with you.

“Plus,” your mind scrambles for another reason that won’t make him look like a kicked baby barkbeast, “do you see a fucking change of clothes on me? And, no, close your mouth right now, I know what you’re about to fucking say. I am not one of those weird ass trolls who sleep in their recuperacoon nude, and if you even imply that you are I am going to walk right out of your front entry portal and take my fucking chances in the sun.”

“Well, I got extra motherfucking pairs of-”

“Abso. Fucking. Lutely. Not. I am not going to sleep in _your_ recuperacoon, dressed in your sleep clothes. If I have to tell you one more fucking time that we are not quadranted I swear to God my voice-giving strings will break, and I will never be able to say anything else again. Congratulations, you juggalo asshole. You broke my fucking -what do highbloods call it- vocal chords.”

His pout gets even worse. Fuck, stop it stop it stop-

“You’re not actually gonna up ‘n leave, are ya?”

God dammit.

“No,” you groan, “I’m not fucking leaving.” You wipe your hand down your face. “How about this, you big fucking wiggler. I’ll sleep in the horn pile, and you can sleep in-” He’s already shaking his head.

“Nah, bro. If we can’t both get the motherfuckin’ coon, _I’m_ sleepin’ in the horn pile. I’ll eat a big pie before bed and then I’ll have sweet bitchtits dreams just like my best friend.” He ruffles your hair and walks away into the hallways, presumably to get one of the fresh pies cooling over the oven. He has apparently forgotten the argument about the clothes.

Whatever. You’ll just take a shower with them on tomorrow. Wouldn’t be the first time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s dark in the air ducts you’re crawling through. The off-blackness makes things a little dreary, but you’re going to stay here because that’s what your pale told you to do, and he might not always be the sweetest guy, but he just wants what’s best for you! It’s dusty in here though, and your olive green coat keeps catching on steel gray screws.

You come up to another vent in the system. Oh! There’s the off-black, square glasses of your meowrail now! He’s standing facing some other troll next to the weird mutated clones floating in green liquid. You can’t see what’s happening very well from here and the angle is awkward enough that you can’t really tell who the other troll is.

You realize too late that the white around your pale’s neck is a bowstring. Your quadrantmate crumples, an indigo necklace bright on his skin.

Without thinking, you unsheath light blue claws and leap from the ducts at the offending troll. It might not be too late to save your meowrail. At the very least, you can avenge his death. You think your precious pale would appreciate that. However, with reflexes faster than you thought possible, the cold-blooded killer turns and grabs your wrist, breaking it immediately. He’s frighteningly strong, keeping you impossibly suspended at the angle he caught you at despite the injury which should have rendered your wrist limp. You can’t see his face very well through the gray-white-black paint, and he’s even harder to identify after he uses your aqua blue weapon to scratch three purple lines across it. He drops you, and

with a splash you fall into a viscous pool of green. You flail at first, scared because you don’t have the respiratory system needed for color breathing, but then your pale quadrantmate tentatively places his hand on your shoulder. The indigo ring around his neck is discomforting, but his presence alone helps settle the worry it brings. You don’t really hear him speak, but the indigo words stand out against the glowing green as he tells you that it’s all cool. It’s just the sopor not giving you the same bitchtits effects it do for other motherfuckers. Must be some wicked ass, miraculous-level imagination you got in your sponge or somethin’, too big for slime to hold back. He wraps his cool-shaded arms around you protectively, and you cling to him, nuzzling your face like a meowbeast into a gray shoulder. That’s it, he soothes, it‘s all motherfuckin’ right. Not a motherfuckin’ drop of bad juju up in here. Only ho-titty dreams, sweet as wicked elixir.

In your palemate’s arms, you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep to the sound of the cool heartbeat echoing in your ear.

You get more rest than you have in your entire life.

You only realize this, of course, when you completely wake up in Gamzee’s recuperacoon. You only fake-woke once the entire night, a surprisingly shallow fake awakening too: You still thought you were the other troll.

You have a sinking feeling that this lack of sleep problems has something to do with the juggalo wrapped around you, purring like a motor.

You can’t help flailing a little in an attempt to get out of his grip. Thankfully, he’s out like a glass lightning orb, and you manage to lash your way out of his grip to scramble out of the recuperacoon. You don’t even wait for the oxygenated slime to completely drain from your lungs before you’re stumbling to take a cold shower. You slam into the hallway wall once or twice on the way.

The freezing overhead cascading ablution forces your mind to stop thinking about anything other than the water’s temperature. After standing under the sobering spray for longer than you’d ever admit, you realize you forgot to keep your clothes on.

It’s the second shower that gets rid of your blush.

~~~~[Gamzee]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up all in your recuperacoon, the warm feeling of miracles fading from where your new bro must have left. Aw man, that sucks. You were really digging that miraculous amount of warmth in your arms. Helpin’ stop his daymare whimperin’ was a motherfuckin bonus too.

You get out of your ‘coon, eyesight a little fazy from the slime. You really motherfucking rub your eyes, but it don’t help at all in getting the shimmery out. Fuckin happens sometimes when you get your ass up. Maybe you’re hungry.

Passing by the ablution block, you hear the shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh of the overhead water gusher and the mutterins of your newly-declared best friend talkin to hisself. You smile. Guess he hasn’t split yet. Miracles.

You still got pies, but you also got company, so you gotta make somethin for him to eat. Doesn’t up and like pies, but that's prolly cause he knows what they do to a motherfucker’s thinkpan. Tavbro tells you that shit a lot. Carefully thinking and “uh”ing, all shy like the little miracle he is. Helps keep ya from goin’ overboard with the shit. You should talk to him sometime soon, see how he’s doin’ ever since that bitch-

You fuckin’ shut down that train of thought before it vrooms straight into righteous rage territory. Your best friend ain’t close enough to calm a motherfucker down if he gets all caught up on a righteous rage blitz, and your Tavbro would be all shades of disappointed. That ain’t no thing you wanna see again any motherfuckin’ time soon.

You start up on some bitchtits flat morning grubloaf. You know how to make these little fuckers from sometime long ago. Fuck, can you even believe someone can just up and know a thing they ain’t needed for awhile? Thought that was gone even, but nope. It's right there. That’s some miraculous shit.

You got all the makin’s mixed, and you press the button that just up and fuckin’ makes fire in your home. Don’t worry though. It's fire in a cage. Can’t light a motherfucker’s hive unless he leaves it alone too long.  Just sits there all like pfffffheeheeeeeheeehhheheeheeeehh and hot and shit. How fuckin’ wicked is that? It's like a pet. There when ya need him, but don’t neglect a motherfucker cause they can tear shit up.

You motherfuckin’ blink again. Your vision’s still actin’ up. Fire looks more... flickery than usual. Rubbin’ your eyes still don’t work. The sopor kickin’ in ain’t doin’ shit for it neither.

Maybe starin’ at the fire’ll fix this weird ass phenomena. Best friend can change shit with his stare. Got a glare like a ‘jugglator on him, but he can’t be no mean-ass ‘jugglator. Skin’s warm as a fresh-baked pie.

“Okay, what the fuck are you trying to do, asshole? Nothing’s in the fucking stove fire other than a fast track to a doctor’s office,” your best friend's bare nubs stomp-stomp across the tile as his heavy steps up and lead him into the food preparation block. His shaggy hair’s all rustled like he took a fluffy drying plane and rubbed like a motherfucker to get the shower out of it, and his arms’re all crossed across his wet clothes. Pulls your heartstrings to see a motherfucker all covered in water and shit. Gonna catch a cold like that.

“Aw, motherfucker. You don’t gotta up and wear that drenched shit. Gotta be colder than the motherfuckin’ ocean durin’ dim season. I got extra duds you can up and use.”

“First of all, I’ve already explained this to you, moron. I am not wearing anything with your fucking sign on it. Do you understand the concept of boundaries or common decency? Because if you need a reschoolfeeding, I will happily redirect you to someone who both gives enough shits and somehow stands your presence enough to beat it past the impermeable rock you call a thinkpan. Honestly, is it that hard to...”

Motherfucker can talk forever. Gots all kinds of thoughts such as runnin’ round his head. Don’t even mind you just starin’ at him while he does it! Aww, now he’s doin’ that thing where his hands start up and talkin’ with him, wavin’ and pointin’ and crossin’ and shit. Only motherfucker you know who’s got hands such as loud as his mouth.

“...so way to fucking assume, asshole. Second of all, they’re not even cold. They’re just fucking wet. Calm down. And here’s an expert tip; if you wanna play lusus, stop staring at fires like a fucking grub trying to blind themselves. For...”

Aw, guy just shivered. Poor motherfuckin’ best friend. Can’t fool you with no tough guy act when he’s shiverin’ all over the place like one of Tavbro’s rescued animals. You hate to break a motherfucker’s word streak, but you ain’t gonna let a best friend get hisself sick if you got the means to motherfuckin’ help it.

“Bro, you can’t just stand there all huddlin’ into yourself shiverin’ like a motherfucker and be all like ‘nah, I don’t need no new kicks. Cold ain’t no motherfuckin’ thing’.”

“That did not even sound remotely like anything I just said. You are the worst impersonator in the- hey, where the fuck are you going?”

You’re goin’ to your fuckin’ wardrobi-whatsit in your respiteblock to get him some motherfuckin’ clothes. Ain’t lettin’ no best friend get sick just ‘cause a motherfucker’s too stubborn to let a brother help him out.

“Goin’ to get you some fuckin’ clothes, best friend. Gots myself some sweet extras, no sign attached.”

Shirts is actually sold without signs. Signs is unique to a motherfucker and wouldn’t make the companies money to make shirts of every available one when only one motherfucker can wear each. Empress makes money for the conquerin’ shit -salaries and buyin’ new ships- by sellin’ decals that you stick on your shirts to advertise who a motherfucker is on the rainbow (treasure from the new planets is her own motherfuckin’ dough, and she ain’t wastin’ her stash on government shit). It’s illegal to walk ‘round without wearin’ a sign plain as pie on a ceiling, so you gotta buy ‘em. Stickers can come in all different motherfuckin’ styles, too. Expensive government sanctioned places can make the sign all fancy for more classy kicks, and a few tailorin’ places take orders to have kicks with signs as being a bitchtits looking part of the design, but ain’t no place existing that’s allowed to sell signs without government say-so, and permission means payin’ a high as fuck tax to the Empress. Tavbro tells you that the news still talks all the time about 'jugglations or court cases on black-market sign dealing places.

Best friend starts followin’ with some angry fucking noises.

“Were you listening to a single thing I just fucking said? The sign was literally only the first point of the presentation. I didn’t think visual aids were fucking needed, but then again, look who I’m talking to. I-”

“Don’t gotta wear them the whole time, brother. Clothes is for wearin’ as you need. When your clothes is all up and back to their motherfucking righteous state, you can wear ‘em again.”

He breaths super deep like he’s goin’ in for another round of talkin’ again and then pauses. He’s shiverin’ again when ya look, hunching with crossed arms in bristly motherfuckin’ surrender. Aww, he’s a cute little motherfucker when he’s all tryin’ not to be grateful.

“I don’t even _want_ to think about that ‘as you need’ part,” he grumbles out as a last word on the matter. You let the motherfucker have it. Seems real nervous for some purpose.

You ain’t needed to sticker a shirt for a loooong-ass time, don’t go out too often unless it’s to watch for your lusus. You ain’t needed to dress up for a motherfucker in a while. Good thing, too. Means you got all these plain-ass shirts for a best friend in need of sign-less kicks. Miracles how shit works out like that.

“Here, see? Ain’t not a touch of motherfuckin’ purple on a single thread. Perfect ‘waitin’ for my kicks to dry’ clothes.”

He eyes the duds suspiciously as he takes them. Turns it round a few times in his hands.

“Why the fuck do you have shirts without signs on them?”

“Honk.” You smile and shrug at him. Motherfucker’s all obsessed with signs. Prolly wouldn’t understand not needin’ to wear one all the time. He looks up all skeptical. Wait, his eyes is all motherfuckin’ shimmery too. Definitely lighter than the motherfuckin usual. Like the fire. Your eyes squint as to try and see ‘em clearer. It don’t work, and it only warps weirder as you look closer.

Best friend takes a step back and gets all growly. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing you pan-damaged fuckass? Near my face is not any place you need to be right now.”

You shake your head in answer. “Your motherfuckin’ eyes is all.”

Motherfucker can even blink angrily. “Who taught you complete sentences? You know what; scratch that. Who the fuck taught you _words_. I would say that they need a reschoolfeeding, but I doubt they’d understand the rational language most Alternian schoolfeeding tapes use enough to parse the correct information from it and would instead just sit there drooling like the incompetent nookwhiffers they most definitely are.” You honk in frustration. Can’t a motherfucker know the happenings without havin’ another motherfucker explain ‘em?

“It’s all… like, like a different thing is all in there without actually being a motherfuckin’ different thing.” His face up and gets its confused frown on. “Like, they’re still the same eyes as is I’ve been seein’, but with somethin’ new there.”

He blinks a couple of times at you, all narrowin’ his gaze with every close. Soon he steps another step back, widenin his lookstubs to the size of a pie.

“Wait. Waitwaitwaitwaitwait, hold the fucking palmhusk. Are you saying they look different? Like, the iris or the ambers?” You nod a buncha times.

“Yeah, bro. The ambers is all fuckin’ flickery. Like, sometimes-” he ain’t listenin’ anymore. Busy mutterin’ to hisself, like when he was all in your ablution block but with a slice of panicky.

“But that’s fucking impossible. There is no way in the history of the universe- Fuck, even green-bloods don’t- not that fast. With that little exposure. How in the hell could you-” His pupils land on somethin and the words just motherfuckin’ halt. You look, and its the pie you got your drawin on with yesternight.

“Oh fuck.” He breathes. It’s small as shit, and he sounds a little disbelievin’ with it, “fuck, I figured it’d have skin cells but I didn’t think it might preserve-” he whips his glare towards you, gettin’ your scare on and makin’ you honk and jump back. Motherfucker’s face is all blank. There’s a silent moment when nothin’ happens, but he breaks it with the most wicked of groans, runnin’ his hands through his hair like it ain’t even a thing. “Fuck, this can’t be happening. God damn it, of all the things that could be happening, this is definitely the thing that shouldn’t be. Fuck, and I specifically told Nitram that this wouldn’t happen. God damn it, I can’t fucking- with a _purple-blood,_ I’m so fucking screwed. Shit. This can’t be happening.”

“Gonna let me in on your mutterins, best friend?”

“Don’t call me that!” He screams, whirlin’ on you, eyes like Tavbro’s scared friends again. Voice high like he don’t wanna hear it. “I am not your best friend! I was never your fucking best friend. I’ve known you for ONE FUCKING NIGHT!” You get your hurt face on real bad at that.

“Bro, it motherfuckin’ hurts to hear you say that,” you say, and his angry face twitches at that. Loses its glare to concern for a second and makes your bloodpusher warm just a bit. It’s been doin’ that a lot-

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Mother of fuck.

Some trolls think your pan is motherfuckin’ busted. Hell, a few might be right, but it must be together enough to know when some important fucking revelations be happening.

Aw, shit. This is true miracles, ain’t it?

You got yourself a palebond on.

Must be showin’ on your face too, this motherfuckin’ revelation, cause best bro starts shakin’ his head and steppin’ back.

“Oh, nonononono, whatever the fuck you’re thinking is happening right now, get it out of your fucking thinkpan because whatever little thought is making your face pull like that is-”

You wrap your best friend in the biggest motherfuckin hug you’ve ever given. Makes him squawk and drop the kicks he was holdin’ and everythin’.

“Bro, this is the most miracle thing that’s up and happened to this motherfucker. Got myself a palebond.” He squirms in your grip.

“What the fuck did I literally just say?” He growls at you, “That thought you were and still are having is wrong and awful. Get it out of your fucking thinkpan.” You smile up at him.

“Ain’t what the hormones sayin, best friend. Body all up and knows better than we do.” He splutters a little more, all flustered and shit. He tries to keep getting his argue on, but you just keep on smilin’ up at the motherfucker. After a little while, he stops tryin’ to get out of your grip, but he hides his face in the wet shellbeastneck of his sweater.

“Gamzee, you don’t understand,” he starts, voice smaller than his head nubs, “I can’t have a diamond. Or any other quadrantmate, really. It’s just- it’s dangerous. For me especially but also for the other poor sap who gets caught up in the shitstorm.” Your face twists downward a little.

“What’s up and makin’ it motherfuckin dangerous?”

“None of your fucking business!” He snaps. Immediate. Like it’s ingrained in his pan to respond with. His head whips up, and that little fire is back in his eyes, but defensive anger instead of full of energy. Your sad face gets a twist more motherfuckin’ worried. Instead of answerin’, you carry him to the horn pile and drop him with a HONK and an oof. You go and grab the kicks he let go of earlier and bring it over before droppin’ in the pile yourself.

“Don’t gotta tell me yet, motherfucker. But for the case of the future, it turns out to need to be my business, I can knock a few heads my own motherfuckin’ self,” he opens his mouth to stop you, but you got a fuckin’ point to make, “don’t know this diamond won’t work if you don’t up and motherfuckin’ try, right?”

The hope-filled smile just up and takes over your face without your permission. It’s cool, though, you’re chill with it. Body knows better than you do, right? “Now you up and put that dry shit on, so you don’t get your warm-ass self feverish, and then we can up and do whatever the motherfuck you want.”

He stares at you for a few minutes, face carefully blank and searchin’ for somethin. Right when you think you can’t hardly be handlin’ that noise anymore, he looks down and away with a little shimmery blush.

“I’m kind of hungry,” he sounds, testin’ the waters.

“Ohhhhhhh shit, best friend,” you wrap the little motherfucker in a hug tight as miracles, nuzzlin’ your face against his neck, “you’re in luck. I make flat morning grubcakes so motherfuckin’ wicked you won’t even know what miracles just up and hit your tastebuds.”

“Oh God, just fucking cull me now,” he groans, buryin’ his face in the shellbeastneck again. You’re pretty sure there’s a hint of a smile under there. Awww, that noise makes your bloodpusher do fuckin’ flips.

You’re gonna make him move soon but not yet. Right now, you’re gonna get your cuddle on even if it gets your kicks all wet. He don’t seem keen on movin’ any motherfuckin soon either.

Except out of nowhere, he jolts like he just remembered somethin’ important and looks at you before bolting out of the room like a long-eared fur beast. He shouts back to you.

“FUCK! SHIT- GAMZEE, WE LEFT THE GOD DAMN STOVE ON!”

Fire was a little bitch to put out, but at least your palebro’s clothes took less time to dry. ‘Specialy after he changed into yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how Karkat and Gamzee both got their first quadrant! (I had so much fun writing Gamzee's part. You have no idea.)
> 
> My editor EAter made some adorable fanart of this chapter! http://homestuckismykryptonite.tumblr.com/post/127424410801/healthy-gam-kat-will-never-not-be-cute-and
> 
> You should all go check it out. It's so cute!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays!

GC: 1 KNOW HOW TO STOP H3R 

GC: TRUST M3

AA: i guess 0ur gaming days are 0ver then 

AA: us f0ur at least 

GC: Y3P

GC: 1M PR3TTY MUCH DON3 W1TH H3R

 

The words of your friend echo in your head, but the voices echo louder.

Your name is Aradia Megido, and you know _exactly_ what must be done.

But there’s something you need to do first.

 

apocalypseArisen [AA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

 

AA: karkat

[carcinoGeneticist is typing]

 

AA: i d0nt have time f0r this

AA: i am g0ing t0 type and if y0u ch00se t0 interrupt me i will n0t read it.

AA: i am ab0ut t0 d0 s0mething i really sh0uld have d0ne a l0ng time ag0

AA: the v0ices knew this w0uld happen but i didnt listen t0 them and n0w hes hurt because 0f it

CG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING ON ABOUT?

CG: WHAT HAPPENED WITH YOUR CREEPY-ASS VOICES?

CG: IS THIS ABOUT TAVROS?

AA: but this is very danger0us

AA: and s0 i need t0 be sure y0u are prepared t0 take 0ver sh0uld s0mething g0 wr0ng

CG: TAKE OVER?

CG: WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

AA: s0llux has been withh0lding inf0rmati0n fr0m y0u

AA: but if this g0es wr0ng it is crucial that y0u kn0w this

CG: ARADIA, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU. DO YOU NEED SOMEONE TO COME CHECK ON YOU?

AA: s0llux takes medicine 0n a daily basis f0r s0mething referred t0 as “bip0lar natures”

AA: his m00d when he is n0t 0n this medicine varies between manic enthusiasm and severe depressi0n

CG: WHAT?

AA: his 0ther medicine suppresses the v0ices 0f the imminently deceased within his mind, thereby decreasing his migraines

CG: WHOA WHOA WHOA WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN

AA: s0llux has “visi0n tw0f0ld” which all0ws him t0 hear the v0ices 0f th0se ab0ut t0 die

AA: at least it d0es when his pills g0 0ut 0f his system

AA: he is a c0mpletely different pers0n when hes 0n them

CG: ARE YOU SURE YOU SHOULD BE TELLING ME ALL THIS.

AA: theres 0ne m0re thing y0u need t0 remember in case this g0es wr0ng

CG: OKAY, ARADIA. YOU’RE SERIOUSLY STARTING TO FREAK ME OUT WITH ALL OF THIS “GOING WRONG” SHIT. WHATEVER YOU’RE PLANNING TO DO, TROLL SOLLUX ABOUT IT.

AA: n0 matter what s0llux says 0r d0es y0u are imp0rtant t0 him

CG: ARADIA, THIS ISN’T FUNNY. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE PLANNING, BUT COME ON THINK THIS THROUGH YOU HAVE SO MUCH SHIT TO LIVE FOR.

CG: WHAT ABOUT SOLLUX, HUH? YOU ONLY HAD YOUR FIRST DATE A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO. YOU HAVE YOUR WHOLE RELATIONSHIP AHEAD OF YOU.

AA: 0ur date was delayed

AA: healing tavr0s was my t0p pri0rity and i didnt want w0rrying ab0ut him t0 get in the way 0f 0ur time t0gether

CG: WELL THEN THAT’S EVEN MORE REASON NOT TO RISK IT. YOU AND SOLLUX HAVE A FIRST FLUSHED DATE PLANNED OUT.

CG: AND COME ON HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK SOLLUX WOULD FEEL IF HE FOUND OUT THAT YOU SUSPENDED A DATE HE’D NEVER GET TO GO ON.

AA: karkat i kn0w exactly h0w s0llux w0uld feel

AA: he w0uld be disapp0inted

CG: DISAPPOINTED?!

CG: THAT’S THE BEST YOU CAN COME UP WITH FOR HOW HE WOULD FEEL IF YOU DIED?!

AA: i was n0t talking ab0ut if i died

AA: but my time is up karkat

AA: i have t0 g0

CG: **ARADIA HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND**!

AA: 0n the c0ntrary karkat

CG: **YOU FUCK OFF RIGHT BACK HERE WE CAN GO THROUGH WHATEVER YOU HAVE FUCKING PLANNED JUST DO NOT LEAVE THIS CHAT**!!!

AA: i have never been m0re clear 0n what i need t0 d0 in my entire life

CG: *********ARADIA DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE*********

AA: g00dbye karkat

AA: i will miss y0u

apocalypseArisen [AA]  ceased trolling  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: GOD DAMMIT ARADIA YOU GET THE FUCK RIGHT BACK HERE DON’T YOU FUCKI

 

One more thing to do. His handle is not highlighted, officially saying he won’t see any messages sent to him.

_Two-eyed boy at computer marked offline no interruptions busy depressed head migraine_

You should have listened to them a long time ago.

 

apocalypseArisen [AA] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

\-- twinArmageddons [ TA ] is offline --

 

Ha.

 

AA: c0ntact him when y0u g0 numb

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] sent twinArmageddons [TA] the file “save_this_0n_y0ur_palmhusk.txt” --

TA: aa?

TA: why diid you 2end me your addre22 iin a text fiile?

AA: g00dbye s0llux

apocalypseArisen [AA]  ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA]

TA: aa?

TA: uh okay then

TA: <3

 

_Two-eyes hurt take pills go away_

And with that done, everything is finished.

_Puppetmaster pulled too tight broke him life never same tighten string noose and make her pay make her pay make her pay makeher paymakehe rpaymakeherpayma keherpaymakeherpaymakeherpaymakeherpay._

Never let it be said that you aren’t a fucking crowd pleaser.

 

~~~~[Karkat]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gamzee is curled around you on the horn pile when your palmhusk chimes out of nowhere. It startles you out of your purring.

“Oh God, what the fuck now,” you grumble to yourself. Gamzee half-heartedly paps you at your tone, and the two of you shuffle to where you face away from him with the device out while he cuddles up against your back. This position has him looking over your shoulder, but you can’t bring yourself to mind.

You’ve never been a fast typer on your palm husk. You always hit the screen too hard to type the buttons, so it takes two or three times. You sit up and ask Gamzee if you can use his husktop when she starts speaking vague bullshit about Sollux and medicine, and he hands it to you with a squeeze around the waist and a reassuring shoosh. Oh thank God you’re still logged in on here too.

When she logs off you’re near-panic and you type a whole paragraph before Gamzee’s constant shooshes and paps calm you enough to realize it’s not doing anything.

Okay, Aradia is going to do something _extremely_ stupid. Fuck, what is she doing.

Tavros knew about Gamzee’s addiction, maybe Sollux will know whatever the fuck is happening with Aradia.

 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling  twinArmageddons [TA]

 

CG: OKAY LET’S CUT THE BULLSHIT FOR ONE CONVERSATION. ARADIA JUST FUCKING CONTACTED ME, AND SHE STARTED SPOUTING THIS BULLSHIT AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S HAPPENING.

TA: calm down KK

TA: 2he ju2t me22aged me two, 2ometiime2 when the voiice2 get e2peciially loud 2he get2 liike thii2

CG: WAIT THIS HAS HAPPENED BEFORE

TA: the day when 2he fiir2t found the2e ruiin2 near her hiive 2he wa2 liike thii2

TA: diidnt really make a lot of 2en2e

TA: but then later 2he me22aged me that the voiice2 had gotten really loud and that 2he doe2nt really know what 2he2 doiing when that happen2

CG: BUT SHE’S SAFE?

TA: probably

TA: the voiice2 arent u2ually wrong for her

TA: what diid 2he tell you?

CG: SHE MESSAGED ME AND SAID THERE WERE SOME THINGS SHE NEEDED TO TELL ME

CG: FUCK WHAT EVEN WERE THEY I WAS SO FREAKED OUT I DIDN’T REALLY PAY A LOT OF ATTENTION

CG: SHE TOLD ME THAT YOU TAKE THIS MEDICINE SHIT FOR MOODINESS AND MIGRAINES OR SOMETHING

TA: 2he

TA: 2he WHAT

CG: I DON’T REALLY REMEMBER A LOT ELSE

CG: FUCK SHE KEPT SAYING THAT SHE WAS DOING SOMETHING SHE SHOULD HAVE DONE A LONG TIME AGO AND “IF IT GOES WRONG”

TA: okay okay hang on

TA: 2o what2 been goiing on wiith her lately

TA: 2he randomly po2tponed our date and now 2he2 talkiing vague agaiin

CG: SHE DIDN’T TELL YOU WHY SHE HAD TO PUT OFF THE DATE?

TA: 2he told you?

CG: FUCK, IT MAKES ME ANGRY JUST THINKING ABOUT IT

CG: BUT OKAY, SO NITRAM WAS FLARPING WITH VRISKA AND SHE SET UP THIS CAMPAIGN THAT WAS WAY OUT OF INVERSE-CASE’S LEVEL

CG: BASICALLY IF HE HAD FOUGHT THE GUYS HE WOULD’VE AT LEAST BEEN SEVERELY HURT AND HE WAS BACKED AGAINST A CLIFF SO HE COULDN’T ESCAPE

CG: SO HE REFUSED TO ROLL THE DICE AND INITIATE THE BATTLE AND TRIED TO TROLL ARADIA AND TEREZI BUT THEY WEREN’T THERE

CG: AND VRISKA SAID THAT REFUSING TO FIGHT MADE HIM WEAK AND SHE

CG: SHE FUCKING MADE HIM JUMP OFF OF THE CLIFF

CG: HE BROKE BOTH OF HIS FUCKING LEGS AND ARADIA SAYS THAT HE’LL NEVER WALK AGAIN

TA: oh god

CG: ARADIA WAS THE FIRST TO GET TO HIM AND SHE’S BEEN CARING FOR HIM EVER SINCE

TA: oh my god

TA: holy 2hiit ii knew vrii2ka wa2 dangerou2 but none of u2 thought 2he would ever go THROUGH wiith anythiing what the fuck

CG: SHE COULDN’T GO ON YOUR DATE BECAUSE HELPING TAVROS WAS HER FIRST PRIORITY.

TA: oh holy fuck iim 2uch an a22hole

TA: iive been 2iittiing here feeliing 2orry for my2elf whiile 2he wa2 out actually takiing care of an emergency

TA: fuck ii 2hould have tru2ted her

CG: IF SHE DIDN’T TELL YOU THEN THERE WAS NO WAY YOU COULD HAVE KNOWN. IT’S FINE, ASSHOLE.

CG: BUT IF YOU HAVEN’T FUCKING NOTICED WE NEED TO SHIFT OUR MAIN FOCUS AWAY FROM SOLVING THE EXACT PERCENTAGE AMOUNT OF IMMENSE FUCK-UPITUDE THAT’S OCCURRED IN THE PAST FEW DAYS AND INSTEAD FIGURE OUT HOW TO KEEP A CERTAIN CREEPY GHOST GIRL FROM DOING SOMETHING WE’LL REGRET NOT STOPPING.

TA: riight, 2ure

TA: 2he’2 offliine riight now, 2o there’2 not really much we can do from here

TA: fuck

TA: iim 2o MAD at AG

TA: how could 2he fucki8ng do thii2

TA: *fuckiing

CG: YEAH YEAH VRISKA’S THE BIGGEST NOOKMUNCHING BITCH. WE CAN DEAL WITH HER AFTER WE KNOW ARADIA’S OKAY

TA: fuck and TAVRO2 of all people

TA: you know 2he only diid iit two try and fulfill one of her bond2 whiich ii2 fuckiing 2iick

TA: he2 the mo2t vulnerable guy ii know!

TA: that2 2o fuckiing low

CG: AGAIN, YES, CAPTOR. WE COVERED THAT. FOCUS.

TA: no wonder 2he want2 two get revenge!

CG: WAIT WHAT.

CG: YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHAT WAS HAPPENING.

TA: ii dont

TA: fuck ii ju2t

TA: my head hurt2

CG: TAKE YOUR MEDICINE.

CG: WHICH, BY THE WAY, WE’RE TALKING ABOUT LATER BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T FUCKING TELL ME ABOUT YET ANOTHER EXTREMELY IMPORTANT THING.

TA: ii ju2t took my mediiciine iit mu2t be takiing a liittle long two kiick iin

TA: ii mean FUCK he wa2 already goiing two have a hard tiime wiith the culliing drone2 wiith hii2 complete iinabiiliity two hate anyone

CG: UH, YEAH, IT’S PRETTY FUCKED UP.

CG: GAMZEE GOT REALLY MAD WHEN HE HEARD.

TA: no 2hiit he got mad

TA: thii2 2hould make anyone mad

TA: FUCK ju2t thiinkiing about iit ii2

TA: iit ju2t

TA: fuckiing shiit

TA: it makes me want two

TA: to just fuCKING 

TA: M8KE HER PAY

CG: UH, CAPTOR?

\-- twinArmageddons [ TA ] changed status to Away --

CG: SOLLUX?

CG: OH FUCK

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

AG: Arrivederci, Megido.

arachnidsGrip [AG]  ceased trolling  apocalypseArisen [AG]

 

~~~~[Sollux]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that it feels like your sponge is ramming itself against your thinkpan in an effort to get out.

You’re lying on the ground. Not your floor, the ground. Fuck, what happened. Aradia messaged you, you took your medicine, Karkat messaged you, and then… gray.

Your mouth feels gross. Not just the film of “I forgot to brush my skeletal chewing nubs before I went to the recuperacoon”, but like you ate something sticky shortly before you went to sleep, and now it’s disgusting and sweet and-

sweet?

You bolt up in shock. Your back, stuck from sleeping on rocks, screams against the movement, but you don't care.

Your worst fears are confirmed with the half-empty glass jar in your left hand, bits of mind honey still stuck to the inside and your skin. The image is morphed at the edges by 255/00/00 and 0/64/255. Fuck, where are your glasses?

It turns out they’re a little ways away, and once you put them on, you’re able to ignore the pounding of your migraine a little bit and look at the damage. 

A trench of scorched ground marks the land, changing the landscape beyond recognition. Some of the bigger rocks are still smoking slightly from the psionic energy. From its start, the chasm expands to an unimaginable degree. Fuck, how much of that shit did you eat?

A little ways away, in the center of the scar, you can see a stack of burnt rubble. You make your way over, hoping beyond hope that it-

Fuck, it’s a hive, and as you get closer you can better and better see a different pile of ashes a little in front of it. God dammit, please don’t be what you think it is. Oh fuck.

The closer you get, the easier it becomes to tell that yes, it is in fact some civilian troll. The smell of burnt meat gets stronger the closer you get to it, and it might be disrespectful to cover your nose but if it gets much worse, you’re going to have to do _something._ The smoke from the pile carries a few ashes with it, and that sight alone has you almost gagging. Shit, you’re going to have to watch your back for a little while. Trolls don’t appreciate their cohorts being randomly killed by renegade psioni-

You stop when you reach the pile, frozen in place with insidious dread. There are horns half-buried in the ash. They’re cracked, and the nerve where the keratin actually broke off is dark gray almost-black, wrinkled, and dead, but the backwards sweep of the curl is something you’d know anywhere. Your legs buckle and before you know it you’re falling on your knees in front of the ashes.

Oh God, what did you do? Oh fuck. You start retching the moment your knees make contact with the ground. Fuck what did you do?

You can’t feel anything past the initial horror, like someone used a spoon to scoop everything out of your body and left the gaping shell like a festive fruit lantern.

Why was she out of her hive? Oh fuck. She must have heard your flight and come running out to warn you away from her apparently “dangerous plan” or something FUCK. Oh fuck, why didn’t she hit you out of the sky? Did she just fucking stand there? Oh fuck, oh fuck. Did she fucking think you would never fucking hurt her -because fuck youwouldn’tyoucouldn’tyoudid- and she fucking just stood there staring in fucking shock. Did she try to talk to you, maybe snap you out of it? Fuck fuck fUCK FUCK WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO SOLLUX YOU ABSOLUTE WASTE OF SPACE _YOU FUCKING KILLED HER._

You are vaguely aware that you’re hyperventillating. It’s possible that you’re having a panic attack. Can you have a panic attack and not feel anything? It sure _feels_ like both of those things are happening.

A saner part of your brain shouts that you have to do something. You can’t stay here for much longer; you’ll go insane, but you can’t move from this spot. She deserved so much better in life, the least you can do is respect her death. But you’re in public. You’re frozen in place. There’s no way the optic blast didn’t attract the attention of opportunistic trolls, and you can’t defend her or yourself like this. Fuck, you really are useless. You’re too numb. You can’t think of what to

 

c0ntact him when y0u g0 numb

 

It takes you two tries to sightlessly fumble your palmhusk out of your pocket. There’s one person online.

As far as you know, his is never not online.

At first, you have no idea what to write. Even if you _wanted_ to type what happened, your fingers won’t do it. You think about giving up and just resigning yourself to your fate when a notification pops up on your screen.

 

File transfer complete

 

You click it to reveal the coordinates to your exact location. You don’t question whatever your fingers choose to type next -thank whatever deity may be out there that you’ve memorized the keyboard enough to write anything coherently- but they shake as they type, and it’s only when a drop of diluted 161/161/0 hits the screen that it occurs to you that you’re crying. The phone tumbles out of your loose grip when you hit the last enter key. You can’t muster up the energy to pick it back up, so you hope the message sent.

You stare at Aradia’s ashes and wait.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas.

TA: kk

TA: karkat 

TA: help

\-- twinArmageddons [ TA ] sent carcinoGeneticist [ CG ] the file “save_this_0n_y0ur_palmhusk.txt” --

And you are running as fast as you fucking can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'm not dead!
> 
> I'm very sorry for the long time-lapse between chapters. Many things, including schoolwork and home life, have meddled and made it rather difficult to post. On a much less excusable note, I became addicted to another fandom for which I tried to write a fic in conjunction with this one. I always forget how bad I am juggling fics until all of them are already in the air ^u^'.
> 
> I don't know if I'll ever have a set schedule for posting chapters with this fic, especially given the fact that my main editor and I are currently fighting, but I promise I won't give up on this fic.
> 
> As I said, my main editor for this and I are currently squabbling, so if you could please tell me of any quirk errors or inconsistencies, I would greatly appreciate it. As always, don't be afraid to comment! I love to hear from you guys!
> 
> P.S. It's very late where I am and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, so if there are any formatting discrepancies between this and past chapters, I'll have to settle it later.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to my beta reader, EAter, whose saintly patience has persisted through all of my random writing panics. (Including the various ones about how to color in the text for ao3. Those were brutal.)


End file.
